Drifting Away
by fireworksinthenight
Summary: Leonardo makes a radical decision. While his family struggles with the consequences, he remains convinced that it is for the best… Can his brothers change his mind in time when they are the reason he did it in the first place?
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Let's begin with a warning. I wanted to try writing something darker, so proceed with caution._

 _This was inspired by_ Follow the Leader _(2012 cartoon). I'm not sticking to the show._

 _I do not own the turtles._

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

Leonardo watched the inscription on his katana. It was even worse than the 'Fearless Leader' nickname that Raphael had adopted lately.

'Lame-O-Nardo'.

His reflection on the sharp blade was looking at him with sad, forlorn eyes. Leonardo bit his lip and picked up the katana, sliding one finger on the infamous words written by Raphael.

He felt utterly inadequate. Was it really his brother's opinion of him?

 _I'm not lame, am I? I'm trying my best._

He sheathed his weapon. He would erase the inscription later. Raphael had used a marker anyway, it wouldn't go away with a mere rag.

Leonardo turned to the entrance of the alleyway, where his brothers had just departed, congratulating themselves for a job well done. He tried to understand how exactly their training session had gone that wrong.

Maybe he shouldn't have demanded from them that they fight in a traditional way. As ninja, their primary goal was to ensure victory, not to follow the rules.

Or maybe he was just a bad leader.

The more he thought about it, the more he believed it was true.

A good leader's orders wouldn't be second-guessed on a regular basis. _But that's Raph's way of living._

A good leader would be taken seriously. _But Mikey never does._

A good leader would be trusted by his followers. _But Donnie has doubts about my decisions. He's only following me to indulge me._

Leonardo was deeply disappointed in everything and everyone, and mainly in himself. It was to be expected that his brothers and himself would need time to adjust to his new role in the family. However, he had believed that this matter was settled.

 _Especially after our victory against the Kraang._

Obviously, he had been wrong. If anything, it was worse now that Splinter had asked him to train his brothers. And it hurt more than the blue-clad turtle cared to admit. His father had trusted him with his brothers' safety. But how was he supposed to lead them when they had no respect for him?

 _After all these months, if they still don't respect me, it's unlikely that it will ever happen,_ Leonardo thought glumly.

It was a dangerous situation. What if they didn't listen to him at a critical time and one of them got hurt, or worse? It would be his fault, because he had failed to gain their respect as leader.

Leonardo couldn't take it. It was time for him to put two and two together. Without his brothers' support, he would be unable to fulfill his task. Even with it, he doubted more and more that he would be up to it.

 _I should never have asked for being leader. I don't know why Sensei accepted it. I'm not cut out for it. We have just been lucky so far._

Leonardo drew a deep breath and began running after his brothers. He caught up with them while they were disappearing under a manhole cover. They sent him mocking glances, which he ignored, and he walked silently in the sewers beside them.

After a few minutes, Michelangelo elbowed him.

"Hey, Leo," the orange-clad turtle said tentatively. "You're not mad at us, right?"

Leonardo didn't answer.

"Let him sulk", Raphael said dismissively, making eye contact with Donatello. "We won fair and square. Too bad he can't take it."

Donatello smiled, and Michelangelo joined him.

 _This has nothing to do with winning or losing_ , Raph, Leonardo thought. _It's about respect and trust. But of course none of you understands._

He kept silent.

* * *

When they arrived at the lair, Leonardo still hadn't uttered a single word. He made directly for the dojo, and his brothers followed him. They would report to their father about the results of their patrol.

Splinter listened to their story, and nodded.

"Finding every canister of mutagen will be a hard task," he told them. "You have to be patient."

"Hai, Sensei," the four kneeling turtles answered.

Before Splinter could dismiss them, Leonardo spoke quietly.

"I have something important to tell."

His brothers and father looked at him curiously.

"Yes, Leonardo?" Splinter answered.

Leonardo bowed low. He felt oddly calm. He had made his decision and it was for the best. Everyone would be happier that way.

"I respectfully inform you that I'm resigning from my role as leader, from now on."


	2. Shock

**Shock**

* * *

Master Splinter, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo looked at Leonardo with incredulity.

"Could you please repeat, my son? I'm not sure that I heard you correctly," Master Splinter asked.

"I said that I'm resigning from my role as leader."

Leonardo straightened up and looked his father in the eye. His expression was a mask of impassibility.

It broke a spell and his brothers all began speaking at the same time.

"What the shell is that nonsense?" Raphael sputtered.

"Is this because of what we did? Leo, I think you're overreacting…" Donatello began.

"Dude, is it a joke? Because it's not funny at all!" Michelangelo protested.

"Yame!" Master Splinter shouted, which instantly silenced his sons. "Donatello, Michelangelo, Raphael, please leave us."

The three aforementioned turtles stood up and left the dojo, but not without shooting their blue-clad brother distressed looks.

Master Splinter waited until he was alone with Leonardo, watching him with a stern expression.

"Now, Leonardo. You know it is not your decision to make."

"I'm sorry, Sensei, but I think it is."

The ninja master frowned.

"Explain yourself."

Leonardo swallowed hard. He knew his behavior was bordering on disrespect – he should have talked to his father privately instead of giving him no choice in the matter – but he had felt compelled to talk before he lost his courage.

This had to be done.

"I'm not able to fulfill my responsibilities. I failed at earning my team's respect and it can only end in disaster. I won't endanger my brothers."

Splinter took a deep breath to keep his voice calm.

"What makes you think that your brothers don't respect you as leader?"

Leonardo thought of the inscription on his katana, of the jokes and teasing, of the irritated looks he got more often than not when he suggested training. He couldn't overlook it any longer.

"I just know it."

Splinter sighed and pinched his nose.

"You will have to be a little more explicit than that."

Leonardo stubbornly averted his eyes.

"Fine," Splinter told him quietly. "Then as your Sensei, I do not accept your resignation."

Leonardo bit his lip. Despite his father's calm voice, he knew that he was mad at him. Mad and disappointed. The blue-clad turtle gathered his remaining courage.

"I'm sorry, Sensei, but I'm unable to do as you order me. I took that decision to protect my brothers. I'm unfit to lead."

Splinter watched his son, on the verge of losing his patience.

"It is not your decision to make," he repeated.

"I have to, though," Leonardo whispered.

For a long time, Splinter watched his son in silence, hoping against all odds that Leonardo would suddenly laugh and admit that it was a mere joke.

But his son said nothing.

His father weighed his options. Leonardo could be quite stubborn when he decided to be, although it was the first time that he was openly defying his father. What could Splinter do to make him think about his actions? It would have to be something serious.

"Very well," Splinter began slowly. "I disagree with you. But if you are convinced that you don't deserve your brothers' and my trust, I don't think you should be trusted with your weapons either. Give them to me. I will keep them for you until you find your self-confidence again."

Leonardo paled and Splinter tried to ignore his remorse. It felt unfair. But he hoped that it would make him reconsider his decision.

Leonardo's hands were shaking when he detached his katana and their sheaths and handed them over to his father, but he didn't protest.

Splinter took his son's beloved weapons.

"You may go."

"Hai, Sensei," Leonardo bowed before walking out of the dojo with heavy steps.

Alone in the dojo, Splinter sighed. He hoped that he hadn't made a mistake. When it came to teenagers, telling a good educational idea from a bad one wasn't easy.

* * *

On the living room, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo were discussing Leonardo's unexpected decision.

"I say he's crazy," Raphael said. "What came into him, to burst this out like that? Sensei is going to kill him."

"I don't know, guys," Michelangelo answered pensively. "It's not like Leo to take rash decisions. Maybe he really means it."

"He could have talked to us first," Donatello said, slightly offended. "We are affected too."

"If he's serious, then somebody else will have to lead," Michelangelo considered. "I volunteer!"

"Why should it be you?" Donatello protested. "I'm the most intelligent, it should be me!"

"Don't get too excited," Raphael grumbled. "Leo probably doesn't mean it. It's just a whim. He's pissed off, that's all."

"But in the interval, we won't have to put up with his training sessions," Michelangelo realized. "That's good news."

"What's good news, Mikey?" Leonardo asked, having just left the dojo. His voice was only slightly shaking.

His three brothers turned towards him.

"So, how did it go?" Michelangelo asked instead of answering Leonardo's question. "You know, you telling Sensei that you don't care about his orders."

"That's not what I said, Mikey," Leonardo said, forcing himself to smile. He was still mad at his brothers, but he was angrier at himself. Besides, after his discussion with Splinter, he didn't have the strength to argue with them. "And he's not too happy about my decision. But he will get over it. Eventually."

"Are you sure about this, Leo?" Donatello asked tentatively.

"Yes, I am," Leonardo answered, his voice filled with a conviction he wasn't feeling.

Donatello watched him doubtfully, before shaking his head.

"Whatever you say, Leo. Oh, I wanted to tell you that I have chemical products at the ready if you want to erase what Raph wrote on your katana… And I assume you will want to, right?"

"Yeah, your idea of training was lame, but you're not, bro," Michelangelo said soothingly.

Raphael turned away. In the heat of the action, it had seemed a funny joke, but he felt kind of ashamed now.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Leonardo blush, and frowned.

"By the way, where are your katana, Leo?" Raphael asked slowly.

"Uh, Sensei kept them," Leonardo answered shyly, not looking his brothers in the eye.

"WHAT?" the three of them exclaimed.

"It doesn't matter," Leonardo shrugged. "As I said, he's not too happy about my decision."

"But…but…" Raphael stammered.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Michelangelo asked, worried.

"Yes, Leo," Donatello added. "You're not… upset about it?"

"No, I'm not," Leonardo answered in a higher voice than usual.

His brothers glared at him, obviously not convinced.

"Okay, maybe a little," Leonardo added after a while, "but I guess I had it coming."

"Uh-huh," Michelangelo answered, bouncing on the couch. Part of him wanted to jump at his brother and hug him, but there was something off about Leonardo right now and it unsettled the orange-clad turtle. "So, do you want to play or something? I beat your high score at pinball yesterday, maybe you want to…"

"No, thank you. I'm just tired. I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow, guys," Leonardo interrupted him before making for his room.

"Okay, that was just strange," Donatello said, perplexed and more than a little worried.

Michelangelo and Raphael both nodded.

* * *

Lying on his bed, Leonardo was taking deep breathes. This night had been taxing and he felt exhausted and a little numb. This decision was probably the hardest he had had to make – and standing his ground against his father had been even harder. But it was necessary. He was unworthy of leading, he knew it now. It was for the best.

It was, right?

Then why was he crying?


	3. Denial

**Denial**

* * *

Leonardo lay awake in his bed. It was early morning for the humans in the city above, which meant it was still the middle of the night for him. Despite his exhaustion, he had only managed to sleep for a few hours.

His mind was going round and round in circles. He kept thinking about the disastrous training session of the day before, about his decision and his declaration, and about his father's reaction.

His father was disappointed in him. He had even deemed him unworthy of wielding his weapons. In front of his brothers, Leonardo had pretended to be unaffected by this, but it wasn't true. Not that they had seemed to buy it, anyway. It was even worse that he hadn't had the opportunity to clean them, but now there was no way he would ask his father about it. Splinter would want an explanation, and Leonardo wasn't going to tell on Raphael.

Splinter had said that Leonardo should find his self-confidence back, but the self-appointed ex-leader didn't understand what that was supposed to mean. He was self-confident. He had only taken a difficult decision based on the elements he had.

He wasn't cut out to be a leader, no big deal. His brothers had no respect for him – well, that must be because he didn't deserve it. Not a problem. Not anymore.

Leonardo suddenly noticed that his fists were clenched and forced himself to unclench them.

What would his new place on the team be?

He hadn't Donatello's talent with engineering, nor Michelangelo's way of goofing around while still managing to get through everything – most of the time. And he didn't believe that brute force could resolve everything, like Raphael. He was a decent ninja, though, and he would do his best to help defeating their enemies.

Of course, it was going to be harder without his katana.

 _Don't think about it. For a ninja, everything can be a weapon._

Who was going to be the new leader?

Splinter probably wouldn't appoint somebody else as leader just now – Leonardo knew that his father still hoped he would go back on his decision.

 _But I'm not. And when Father finally accepts it, he will have to choose someone else._

At this point, Leonardo was firmly convinced that any of his brothers would do a better job of leading than him. And he was going to be the most supportive follower ever, so the burden of leadership wouldn't be as hard on his brother as it had been on him. He would focus on fighting now that he wouldn't have to take all the decisions, and he was going to improve his fighting skills to be even better with his katana… which were currently hanging in Splinter's room, out of his range…

 _Don't think about it._

Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

Donatello didn't sleep well that night either. His busy mind would keep waking him every few hours so it could process the events of the day before – again.

Why would Leonardo take such a radical decision?

It couldn't be because of the way Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael had undermined his training, could it?

If it was, Leonardo was completely overreacting. Of course, they hadn't been very nice to him, but it had been fun – and Donatello needed fun in his life at the moment.

The purple-clad turtle sighed and contemplated his T-phone screen, where a picture of April was on display. It hurt to look at it. It made him remember that the red-haired girl was mad at him – at all of them. She wasn't even talking to him! Donatello hoped that it would only be temporary. He couldn't imagine his life without her.

 _April, I'm so sorry your father got mutated. But it was an accident. You know I would never willingly hurt you, right?_

Donatello melancholically switched off his phone. His thoughts went back to Leonardo's outburst. The purple-clad turtle was conscious that they had exaggerated – Raphael especially had crossed a line – but it wasn't the first time and Leonardo had never reacted that badly before.

Except the time when he had let Raphael be the leader. This hadn't gone very smoothly and Donatello was pretty sure that his red-clad brother didn't want to try it again.

 _I could lead, if needed,_ Donatello mused. _I'm the best thinker._

Not that he seriously thought that it would become an issue. Leonardo would come to his senses soon.

 _Besides, Sensei won't let him back off that easily. I'm sure that's why he took his swords._

Donatello couldn't help switching on his phone again to look at April's picture a bit more.

He missed her so much.

* * *

Michelangelo was deeply asleep, and dreaming. In his dream, he was walking alongside his brothers in a beautiful park. The sun was high in the sky and there was no human in sight. He was chatting happily with them, teasing Raphael, then Donatello, then Leonardo, then Raphael, then Donatello, then Raphael, then Donatello, then…wait… something wasn't right here. At this point, Michelangelo turned around to look for his third brother, but Leonardo was nowhere in sight.

When it began to drizzle, Michelangelo woke up with a jump. As soon as he opened his eyes, the dream faded away. After a few seconds, he couldn't remember at all what it was about. He was left with a vague sense of anxiety and held his teddy bear tighter before going back to sleep.

* * *

Raphael didn't sleep a wink all night. He kept thinking about Leonardo's expression when he had announced his decision. Impassible and determined, like he really meant it.

He couldn't really mean it, could he?

But then, why would his honor-driven brother defy the father he worshipped if he didn't mean it?

Raphael didn't like it one bit.

 _Is it because of what I did? It was supposed to be a joke. Granted, not a very good one._

Lame-O-Nardo.

What had he been thinking?

 _Hothead._

Raphael knew he owed his brother an apology.

 _I will. I would have done it already, but he went straight to bed._

Maybe then Leonardo would admit that his apparently rash decision was only a devious plan to make Raphael regret his words?

 _Nah. It's too sneaky, even for him._

Raphael hated feeling guilty even more than he hated apologizing.

 _I will tell him I'm sorry. First thing in the morning._

 _Then everything will be alright._

* * *

Next morning, Raphael managed to corner Leonardo on his way to the bathroom. Donatello and Michelangelo still weren't out of bed. Leonardo was an early riser, but Raphael hadn't been sleeping at all, which gave him the advantage.

"Hey," he told him uneasily.

"Hi, Raph," Leonardo answered.

They both watched the other with embarrassment.

"So, hum. I wanted to say that, uh…"

Raphael had noticed the dark rings under Leonardo's eyes. Obviously, his brother's night hadn't been much more refreshing than his own.

"…About yesterday, I…"

Leonardo was watching him impassibly.

"I wanted to say…"

The unreadable deep blue eyes focused on him made him uneasy. But Raphael was determined to go forward. He had had all night to rehearse his speech, after all.

"I'm sorry," the red-clad turtle whispered, before waiting for his brother's reaction in tense silence.

"It's okay."

Leonardo patted Raphael's shoulder and skirted around him, heading for the bathroom again.

Raphael blinked.

"It is?"

"Yes. We always tell you to express your feelings, and you did."

"What I wrote on your katana isn't how I feel about you!"

"It had to be. Why else would you have written it on my weapons? You know what care I take of them."

"It was only a joke! And a poor one, with that!"

"Don't regret it. Now I won't bother you as leader anymore. Wasn't it worth it?"

Leonardo smiled in a lopsided way. It hurt to look at it.

"Leo…"

"I'm glad it's settled. Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, I…"

"Good. Then if you don't mind, I have an urgent business to attend to. See you at breakfast!"

Before Raphael could register what was happening, Leonardo had disappeared in the bathroom. The red-clad turtle stood alone in the corridor, feeling numb.

He was out of his depth. Leonardo's reaction didn't make sense to him.

"I really didn't mean it," he whispered to the cold floor.

Then he began feeling angry. Leonardo didn't want to believe him? Fine! It was fine! He didn't care anyway.

Turning briskly around, Raphael headed for his room. Why had he stayed awake all night for this stubborn brother of his? Now he needed some sleep.

 _I don't care. I don't care._

 _I don't care._

But he did.


	4. Guilt

**Guilt**

* * *

Michelangelo busied himself in the kitchen as if his life depended on it. He had made delicious-smelling pancakes and pressed oranges, and was in the process of arranging plates on the table. Maybe he could add scrambled eggs to the menu, and where had Raphael put the jam? His brothers knew very well that Michelangelo's kitchen disorder was a work of perfection and therefore not to be disturbed.

The orange-clad turtle didn't make such a big effort for breakfast every day, but he wanted to indulge his family.

Especially Leonardo, who had been acting so strangely the day before.

 _I hope he feels better today._

Michelangelo wanted to believe that a good night's sleep was all his brother needed to feel better.

 _It always works for me._

He dismissed the vague feeling of anxiety that hadn't left him since he had woken up this morning. Leonardo would be fine.

As if on cue, the blue-clad turtle entered the kitchen, smiling.

"Hi, Mikey."

Michelangelo immediately noticed the shadows under his eyes.

 _So much for the good night's sleep._

"Hi, Leo," he answered his brother cautiously. "Everything okay?"

"Sure. Thanks for breakfast."

Michelangelo nodded, unsure of what to answer. For a turtle who had just resigned from his leading role on their team and lost the right to carry his favorite weapons, Leonardo's tone sounded too light.

But maybe Michelangelo was just imagining things. He did that a lot.

"You're welcome, bro," he finally said. "Have you seen Donnie and Raph?"

"I haven't seen Donnie, and Raph went back to bed when I woke up, almost two hours ago."

"Let's begin to eat, then. It will make them come."

And it did. As soon as both turtles had sat down, Donatello and Raphael appeared in the kitchen. Both looked exhausted.

"Hi, guys," Michelangelo greeted them. "Wow. Am I the only turtle who actually slept last night?"

"Of course," Raphael grunted. "You would sleep no matter what."

He collapsed on his chair and grabbed a glass of orange juice.

"Good morning," Donatello answered more amiably while sitting down. "Your pancakes smell delicious."

The four turtles ate in silence, until Michelangelo couldn't stand it.

"So, what do we do today?" he asked for the sake of making conversation.

He knew what their day would be like. Morning training, free time, evening training, and as soon as the sun set, search for new canisters of mutagen.

"There are still dozens of canisters to be found," Donatello reminded them. "I think we cleared area number 14 last night. We could move to area number 15. What do you think, Leo?"

Donatello and Leonardo had divided the city into small areas to make sure that they searched everywhere. Donatello had asked his question distractedly, certain that his brother would confirm. When the silence stretched, he raised his head to look at him.

Leonardo, who had been in the process of spreading jam on a pancake, had stopped his hand in mid-air. Very carefully, he put the spoon back into the pot.

"Do what you want, Donnie," he answered slowly. "I'm not making the decisions anymore, remember?"

"Oh, uh, right. I thought that maybe…maybe you would have changed your mind, you know… considering that you slept on it… Uh…" Donatello was rambling, embarrassed.

"Well, I haven't," Leonardo replied quietly. "So you don't have to ask for my permission or anything like that."

"Right. Alright. Then I suggest we move to area number 15," Donatello went on.

"And who made you the leader?" Raphael grumbled.

He was in a bad mood and he had a strong headache.

"Yeah, if Leo doesn't want to be, I think I should replace him," Michelangelo added.

"You? No way," Donatello protested. "You never think things through!"

"And that's a reason to turn me down? No fair!"

"What do you think, Leo?" Raphael asked on purpose.

Leonardo shrugged.

"It's not my decision to make. Sensei will decide."

"I'm just asking for your opinion."

"I have none."

"Really? It's a little too easy, don't you think?"

"What's your problem, Raph?"

"My problem is that someone here should feel more concerned with the topic!"

"It doesn't matter to me. I will happily follow any of you three."

"Even me?"

"Yes, even you. Do you candidate?"

"No way."

Leonardo looked at his red-clad brother in surprise, and Raphael met his gaze fiercely.

"Go figure, eh?"

Leonardo looked away first.

"Then I guess it's between Donnie and Mikey."

"Come on, guys. That's not even a choice!" Donatello exclaimed.

"Hey!" Michelangelo protested.

While the two of them went back to bickering, Leonardo forced himself to eat his pancake. He wasn't hungry, but he knew he would need all his energy to face his father later. He felt Raphael's burning gaze on him, but he didn't look at his brother.

 _He doesn't want to lead? After giving me such a hard time? I don't understand._

* * *

Master Splinter was waiting for his four sons to come into the dojo for their first training session of the day. He was standing perfectly still next to the dojo tree with his hands behind his back, a perfect image of calm and confidence.

However, Master Splinter was feeling anything but calm and confident. His mind was in turmoil. Would Leonardo go back on his decision? What would Splinter do if he didn't?

When the four turtles entered the dojo, Master Splinter discreetly inspected them. Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael looked like they had barely slept. Michelangelo seemed more rested. Splinter waited while his sons greeted him and knelt in a line in front of him.

"Good morning, my sons."

The ninja master tilted his head.

"Before we begin, Leonardo, is there anything you want to share with us?"

Leonardo shook his head.

"No, Sensei."

Splinter hid his disappointment.

"You didn't change your mind?"

"I didn't, Master Splinter."

The ninja rat looked at his son, trying to guess his state of mind. Leonardo's features were set in a determined expression. Obviously, he wouldn't budge.

 _Very well,_ Splinter thought. _I can play this game too._

"Begin warming up. The first part of our training session will be focused on wrestling. I will show you new moves."

And showing them he did. Splinter asked each of his sons in turn to help him demonstrate the moves in question, and if Leonardo ended up flying through the whole room more often than his brothers, it could still look like a mere coincidence and not like the ninja master was mad at his blue-clad son.

When they came to weapon training, Leonardo stood awkwardly in the middle of the dojo while his brothers went to retrieve their respective weapons.

"What am I supposed to train with?" Leonardo asked his father, his cheeks burning from shame.

Splinter pondered this. He didn't want to give Leonardo his katana, but he didn't want to sideline him either. He suddenly had an idea.

"You will exchange weapons. Each of you needs to improve at wielding the others' weapons. Leonardo, you will take Donatello's bō staff. Donatello, you will take Michelangelo's nunchaku. Michelangelo, you will use Raphael's sai. Raphael, I will lend you Leonardo's katana."

It wasn't unheard of. From time to time, Splinter planned an exchange of weapons for training. The first time had been disastrous, but his sons were getting better at it.

Splinter went to retrieve the swords and handed them over to Raphael, who looked at them as if they were going to bite him. The red-clad turtle looked horrified for some reason, and Splinter raised his eyebrows.

"A problem, my son?"

"No, nothing at all," Raphael almost choked, and he carefully took the weapons.

"Face each other," Splinter ordered. "Michelangelo against Donatello and Leonardo against Raphael."

As his sons obeyed, Splinter noticed that Leonardo was as pale as Raphael. While he corrected Michelangelo's grasp on the sai, he saw the blue-clad turtle miming unsheathing a sword with his left hand and Raphael nodding discreetly.

 _What is going on here?_

"Hajime," Splinter ordered, and the fights began.

Michelangelo ran at Donatello in a fair imitation of a mad Raphael, and Splinter had to repress a smile. Donatello swirled the nunchaku, but Michelangelo avoided them as if he knew where his weapons were going to strike and collided with Donatello, pinning him to the floor.

Next to them, Raphael had unsheathed the left katana with both his hands and was using it to divert the upper end of the bō staff held by Leonardo. Leonardo moved swiftly and used the other end to make his brother trip.

"Yame!" Splinter ordered. "Very good, Michelangelo. Raphael, you should use both katana to defeat your opponent. Both are one and the same weapon. They are meant to work together."

"Leo often uses only one," Michelangelo remarked, still reveling in the praise.

"Because your brother has enough practice to adapt his fighting style, which isn't Raphael's case. Now do it again."

His sons faced each other once again. Splinter raised an eyebrow.

"Raphael, I told you to use both katana."

"Is it really necessary?" Raphael asked in a small voice. "I don't think I will succeed today. Maybe next time?"

Now Splinter was highly suspicious.

"No, Raphael. Try this, now."

Bowing his head, Raphael unsheathed the second katana under Leonardo's horrified gaze. Splinter immediately noticed that something was wrong with it. It didn't catch the light like it was supposed to. The ninja master came closer and saw that something was written on it. Frowning, he took it from Raphael's shaking grasp and read the black inscription.

 _Lame-O-Nardo._

"What's the meaning of this?" Splinter asked, controlled anger in his voice.

In front of him, Raphael and Leonardo both looked like they wanted to disappear inside a tiny, tiny hole. Donatello and Michelangelo watched the scene, mouth open.

"I had totally forgotten," Michelangelo whispered in Donatello's ear. "That's messed up."

The orange-clad turtle's voice was almost inaudible, but Splinter had a keen hearing.

"Forgotten what, Michelangelo?"

His son jumped.

"No-nothing, Sensei! Just that I… that I… I forgot to put the remaining pancakes in the fridge! Yeah, that's it! I should do it right now!"

Splinter's glare shut him up and efficiently conveyed the fact that he would do better staying here. Then the ninja master turned to his blue-clad son.

"Leonardo?"

He knew there was no way his son would have written such a thing on his beloved weapons.

"I… I…" Leonardo stammered.

He exchanged a quick glance with Raphael, who looked so guilty that Splinter had no doubt about the culprit's identity.

 _Raphael, how could you?_ Splinter thought, distressed. No wonder Leonardo had told him that his brothers had no respect for him.

"It's… because…" Leonardo began.

"Yes?" Splinter encouraged him.

"I… lost a bet."

Splinter blinked. He looked for his son's eyes, but Leonardo was watching the floor. The ninja master watched Raphael's astonished expression and knew without doubt that Leonardo was lying.

"A bet."

"Yes. And we were searching for the most stupid nicknames we could imagine, and Raphael won with this one, and I had to write it on my katana." Leonardo's voice was higher-pitched than usual and shaking slightly. The boy really was a bad liar. "It was only a joke, but I had no time to erase it before you… took them."

Splinter watched him sternly. He half-wanted to blame his son for lying, but he was touched that Leonardo was still trying to protect his brother from Splinter's wrath.

"I see," he said instead. "Then do it now."

"Wh-what?" Leonardo replied, obviously surprised that his father was buying it. Or at least pretending to.

"Clean it."

"I will give you something for that," Donatello interjected. The tall turtle ran to his lab and went back with a white bottle and a rag.

"Thanks, Donnie," Leonardo muttered, taking both items from Donatello and his katana from Raphael.

His family watched him in complete silence while he erased the letters.

"It's done," Leonardo uselessly announced when he was finished with his task, handing his weapon back to Raphael.

Splinter nodded.

"Then let's go back to training."

When the session was over, Splinter took back Leonardo's katana and addressed his red-clad son in a neutral tone.

"Raphael, I wish to speak with you."

Raphael gulped. Splinter waited until they were alone, watching him with severity.

"Now, Raphael. Tell me what really happened."

Raphael opened his mouth, then closed it.

"My son?"

Splinter waited, but Raphael kept silent. The ninja master sighed.

"Was it your idea to write these words on Leonardo's katana? Yes or no."

"Yes," Raphael answered in a very small and very ashamed voice.

"Did Leonardo give you permission for this? Yes or no."

"…No."

At least this son had the common sense not to lie to him.

"Why would your brother lie about it?"

"I don't know," Raphael murmured. "I guess he was trying to protect me. Not that I deserve it."

Splinter raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. Did you at least apologize to him?"

At this, Raphael raised his head and met his father's gaze, talking almost desperately.

"I did, and Leo said it was okay! But then he refused to believe that I didn't mean it, and… I wonder if that's why he doesn't want to be leader anymore, and if it is, then I don't know how to fix it!"

Splinter watched him sternly.

"Why would you write such a thing in the first place?"

"I don't know," Raphael said sadly. "I thought it would be fun, but I was wrong. I only wanted to tease him, I never thought he would take it that seriously! I promise!"

His father sighed.

"I believe you, my son. But I am disappointed in you."

Raphael shrank at these words.

"However, as Leonardo wasn't willing to blame you, I won't punish you for what you did. Though I do want you to set things right with your brother."

"I have no idea how to do that," Raphael complained. "I already apologized!"

"Raphael," Splinter said warningly.

Raphael seemed to realize that he was getting by easily, and nodded.

"I will try, Sensei."

"Good. You're dismissed."

Raphael ran away, obviously relieved, and Splinter sat down to meditate on this new development.

He was still hoping that Leonardo would willingly accept his role again, but he was beginning to realize that his son had had a harder time than he thought.

 _I will have to give him time._


	5. Decisions

**Decisions**

* * *

Donatello was determined. Whether Leonardo wanted to lead or not, tonight's patrol had to happen. They needed to retrieve every lost canister of mutagen to protect the citizens of New York and make up for their mistake.

Then Donatello could focus on a way to retromutate April's father, so that she would forgive him.

The purple-clad turtle was concerned about Leonardo, of course – he had really thought that his brother would change his mind overnight and take his role back. Besides, Leonardo's expression when their father had discovered the inscription on his katana had been really painful to watch. But their mission couldn't wait, and Donatello was ready to take matters into his own hands.

So he gathered his three brothers in his lab for a council of war.

They were watching him expectantly right now, and Donatello took a deep breath.

"Guys, we need to talk about tonight."

Leonardo shifted uneasily. Raphael glanced at him grumpily before turning away, keeping unusually quiet.

 _Whatever Splinter has told him one-to-one earlier must have unsettled him,_ Donatello thought.

Michelangelo tilted his head and jumped on Donatello's desk, making himself comfortable between the books, papers and laptop. Donatello sighed and gave up on protesting. He had more important matters to deal with.

"What about tonight? We're still going on patrol, right?" the orange-clad turtle said. "If we can call patrol the boring search for boring canisters filled with boring mutagen."

"Of course we are," Donatello answered with conviction while rolling his eyes. "But we need to decide, uh, who will be leading. For the time being. Considering that Leo doesn't want to."

Donatello looked at his blue-clad brother apologetically, and Leonardo gave a stiff nod.

"I assume you're volunteering," Raphael mumbled.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Donatello replied with great dignity. "Who else does?"

"I do! I do!" Michelangelo chanted.

Donatello ignored him.

"Raph?"

The red-clad turtle shook his head gruffly, crossing his arms.

"Then I will lead," Donatello concluded.

"Hey!" Michelangelo protested. "What about me?"

"I don't see it happening, Mikey," Raphael said with the barest hint of amusement.

"Leo, bro, back me up," Michelangelo pleaded, jumping from Donatello's desk.

Leonardo shook his head.

"I'm not voting on this."

Michelangelo pouted and Raphael patted him on the shoulder.

"Now that it's settled," Donatello went on, glancing at Raphael. He couldn't believe that his red-clad brother wasn't going to fight him on this. "This is the route I suggest we take."

While he showed them on the displayed city map, Donatello felt a burst of self-satisfaction. This had gone easier than he had thought.

Then he met Leonardo's gaze and tensed slightly. But his blue-clad brother smiled encouragingly at him, and Donatello relaxed. Whatever the reason for Leonardo's decision was, he didn't resent his substitute.

He only hoped that Master Splinter wouldn't disagree with this arrangement. From what Donatello had witnessed, his father wasn't happy at all with Leonardo's decision. The tall turtle shivered.

 _The last thing we need right now is Sensei grounding us in the lair._

* * *

Splinter felt cornered. His four sons had come to him and Donatello had carefully explained that he was willing to lead. His purple-clad son had pleaded that the search for mutagen couldn't wait, and Splinter knew it was true. Even as they spoke, citizens were in danger of being randomly mutated.

The giant rat also knew why Donatello was so eager to complete that particular mission. Out of his four sons, he was the one who had taken April's decision to distance herself from the mutant family the most personally. He was trying his best to make up for the accident that had costed Mr. O'Neil his humanity.

Splinter glanced impassibly at Leonardo, who was standing quietly in line with his brothers, his expression as unreadable as his father's. Splinter sighed inwardly. After the katana incident, he had decided that he wouldn't push Leonardo more than he already had. But he had a bad feeling about this.

"My sons. Do you all agree on Donatello leading while Leonardo is…having a break?" he asked, looking at Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo and insisting on the last part.

"Hai, Sensei," Raphael and Leonardo replied, although the latter was frowning slightly at Splinter's choice of words.

"Not really, Sensei," Michelangelo objected at the same time.

Donatello glared at him – a very threatening glare – and Raphael smacked him on the head.

"Ouch! Okay, okay, I agree. You guys are bullies, you know that?"

Splinter inhaled deeply. He had expected that Raphael would strongly object to it, which would have allowed Splinter to forbid them to leave because of the disagreement in the team. But for once, his hotheaded son was being compliant.

 _This is not my day._

His next words felt bitter on Splinter's mouth.

"Very well. In that case, I will allow it."

Donatello's eyes lit up.

"Thank you, Sensei! Thank you so much!"

Turning to his brothers, he cleared his throat.

"Let's get ready, guys," he said in a heartfelt attempt to sound leader-like. "Take your weapons and…"

Donatello suddenly noticed Leonardo's grimace and tilted his head.

"Oh, yeah. Uh… Sensei? About Leo's weapons… uh… he's going to need them, don't you think?"

Splinter frowned at this. He didn't want to give Leonardo his katana back, because he didn't want his blue-clad son to believe that he had accepted his decision.

He could have allowed him to take another weapon in their armory, though. The ninja master watched Leonardo pensively, and on a throw of the dice, he decided against it.

 _I want him to remember how great a fighter he is. With or without weapons._

"No, I don't think so," he answered softly.

Leonardo flinched. Raphael glanced at his brother in dismay, and Donatello opened his mouth to reply, but Michelangelo beat him to it.

"You want him to go unarmed?" the orange-clad turtle exclaimed. "Sensei, how is that fair?"

"For a ninja, everything can be a weapon," Splinter reminded them. "Last time I sent you outside without your weapons, you managed very well."

"Yeah, but…" Michelangelo began, before interrupting himself in mid-sentence. _Last time, we all were unarmed,_ he went on in his head, knowing that his brothers all shared the same thought.

Splinter didn't need to hear the words spoken aloud to know what his sons were thinking. He looked at Leonardo. This wasn't pushing him; this was giving him a gentle nudge in the right direction. Wasn't it? He chose his words carefully.

"Leonardo, I am taking this decision because I believe it will help you – though I will let you discover how. This isn't a punishment. Do you understand?"

"Hai, Sensei," Leonardo answered hesitantly, although it was obvious that he didn't.

From their concerned looks, his brothers didn't either. Splinter restrained himself from giving them a more detailed explanation. Leonardo had to understand it on his own.

"Good. Then I will leave you to your preparations."

As his sons left the room, Splinter couldn't help feeling anxious. He had made dangerous bets tonight, and many things could go awry. What if his sons got into real trouble? Splinter hoped that they wouldn't. The Foot had left them in peace lately and he counted on the fact that they wouldn't bother his family tonight. The Purple Dragons were no real threat to his sons – even weakened by a sudden change of leadership, and with one of them carrying no weapons at all.

 _Maybe it will be good for Leonardo to see Donatello try his hand at leadership. Maybe this way, he will realize that he isn't a bad leader – that the job in itself is a difficult one._

Splinter certainly hoped so. He had named Leonardo leader for a reason; he was the best suited for the job.

But Splinter knew better than to rely solely on hope. After all, his sons were attracting trouble like magnets.

Tonight, he would follow them.


	6. Mishap

**Mishap**

* * *

Leonardo was jumping in silence across the rooftops of New York City, following his purple-clad brother faithfully. It felt strange not to be the one making the decisions, but the blue-clad turtle was grateful that Donatello had been willing to lead. This way, their important mission wouldn't be affected by Leonardo's own failure as a leader.

Now, all he had to do was being the most supportive follower ever. He would follow Donatello's orders to the letter and back him up no matter what.

And he would not look back.

Leonardo jumped over another alleyway and automatically tilted to counterbalance the slight displacement of his center of gravity, due to the fact that he wasn't carrying heavy swords on his back.

He wasn't mad that his father hadn't given him his katana back; he hadn't been expecting it, not so soon after he defied him. However, Leonardo had expected that he would be allowed to choose another weapon. There were plenty of them in the family's armory. The blue-clad turtle couldn't help feeling punished – even though his father had insisted that it wasn't the case.

 _I just don't understand. If this is a lesson, what is it about?_

Leonardo wracked his brains about that but couldn't find a satisfactory answer. He restrained a frustrated sigh and focused on the new route Donatello had chosen. He was taking them through busier parts of the city that the turtles rarely visited. Leonardo was usually avoiding them because there were people in every street no matter the hour, not to mention the huge street lamps which lighted the roads as if it was broad daylight.

 _Another mistake I made. We've already found three new canisters of mutagen._

These canisters were now safely fastened inside the Shellraiser, parked several blocks away. Donatello was determined to find at least two more canisters before calling it a night. Michelangelo had only protested for form, and Raphael hadn't complained at all. Leonardo was glad that his brothers weren't being too difficult. Donatello deserved all the help he could get.

Speaking of Michelangelo, what was this turtle doing? He was supposed to be scouting the area, but he hadn't reported to them for almost five entire minutes now. Leonardo turned quickly and was relieved to glimpse his brother nearby. From the look of it, he was playing chimney-sliding. Leonardo glanced at his new leader, wondering.

 _Should I tell Donnie? Maybe he noticed already and decided that it wasn't a problem. I don't want to interfere with his decisions._

Leonardo knew first-hand how much harm constant second-guessing could do, and there was no way he would inflict that on his brother. So Leonardo settled for keeping quiet and discreetly increasing his own watch. Just in case.

Another minute passed. Now that Leonardo was conscious of Michelangelo's play, he could also hear the small bumps his brother made. He was itching to go to the orange-clad turtle and urge him to be more cautious.

But Donatello, entirely focused on his searching-for-mutagen-canisters device, didn't seem to mind, and he was the leader.

Leonardo sighed deeply. Next to him, Raphael sent him a questioning look, and Leonardo accelerated to avoid the upcoming question. He wasn't in the mood for making conversation.

 _I'm probably over-worrying anyway. They always say I do. It's one of the reasons why they didn't respect me as leader._

While Leonardo tried hard – and almost managed – to convince himself that he didn't mind if his orange-clad brother was having fun instead of staying focused on his appointed task, he heard a surprised yelp and turned in time to see Michelangelo disappearing inside a larger chimney. The yelp was soon followed by a loud bang and a muffled 'Ouch', and Leonardo rushed to check on his brother, Donatello and Raphael on his heels.

More bangs were heard, and by the time the three turtles were on top of the chimney, they couldn't discern Michelangelo anymore.

"Mikey!" Raphael shouted, all discretion forgotten. "Are you alright?"

Leonardo winced at the shout, while beginning to climb down the chimney in order to reach his orange-clad brother.

 _It's my fault. Why didn't I tell him to stop? Donnie can't do everything on his own. I was supposed to help him._

Leonardo's heart was beating faster from the adrenaline. What if Michelangelo had been hurt?

 _Please be okay, Mikey._

Far down, he heard something that sounded like ' _so_ not _fun'_ and relief flooded him. He descended faster, feeling Donatello's and Raphael's presence above him.

"Why did he fall? He never falls," Donatello whispered, anxiety obvious in his voice.

"I saw that one of the bricks was missing," Raphael supplied. "It must have been loosened and fell when Mikey tried to lean on it. He must have been playing chimney-sliding again."

"Really?" Donatello's voice was annoyed. "He was supposed to keep watch!"

Leonardo felt a pang of guilt. He really should have told Donatello. Before he had the opportunity to beat himself up further, though, he reached the bottom of the chimney and landed next to Michelangelo, who was sprawled on the floor and blabbering something about how pretty the stars he had seen were.

"Mikey!" Leonardo whispered as quietly as he could, kneeling beside his brother. "Are you hurt?"

Donatello moved him aside while rushing to Michelangelo's form.

"Ow, ouch, ow; it hurts!" Michelangelo protested while Donatello checked him up.

"Where specifically?" Donatello replied.

"Everywhere?" Michelangelo moaned.

"That's not specific, Mikey."

"Yes it is! I specifically hurt everywhere!"

"You can't! It's an oxymoron!" Donatello protested, still palpating Michelangelo's limbs.

Reassured that his orange-clad brother wasn't in too bad a shape if he could still drive Donatello mad, Leonardo stood up and watched his surroundings.

They were in a wide room with wooden panels and tapestries hung on the walls, dimly lit with beautifully designed lamps. The floor was covered with a thick red and gold carpet which had cushioned Michelangelo's fall. Shelving units full of books and display units showing antiques were artfully arranged across the room.

Leonardo had a really bad feeling about this whole room. Why would such a place – filled with beautiful, _expensive_ stuff – be so easily accessible through a chimney stack?

He hadn't interfered earlier, and Michelangelo had paid for it. It wasn't going to happen twice.

"Donnie."

"I'm busy here, Leo."

"Donnie, don't you think that we should go?"

"I don't want to move Mikey before I've assessed that it's safe. Our brother just fell through a chimney, Leo!"

Leonardo winced at the harsh tone, but every ounce of ninja in him was shrieking at him to go away, now. Leader-Leo would have just grabbed Michelangelo and climbed up to the rooftops. Follower-Leo, however, had to convince his brothers first.

"I don't like this place."

"Me neither," Raphael whispered, grasping his sai and moving closer to his blue-clad brother, who had automatically moved to stand between Donatello and Michelangelo and the door.

"What, the decorating isn't to your taste? You live in a sewer, guys, you should be a little more…oh."

Donatello had finally raised his head and was watching the room with wide eyes.

"What is it?" Michelangelo asked eagerly, moving swiftly to stand up and letting out a small cry of pain before falling on his bottom. "Ouch!"

"Your ankle is sprained," Donatello immediately said, supporting him. "Couldn't you have pinpointed it to me?"

His voice was more relieved than exasperated, though. This was an injury he could easily heal.

However, Leonardo didn't share Donatello's relief. A sprained ankle meant Michelangelo would have a hard time moving.

"And how was I supposed to know?" Michelangelo protested.

"Stop it, guys," Raphael said, voice strained.

Leonardo exchanged a glance with his red-clad brother, and knew that they were on the same page.

Donatello coughed.

"Fine. Let's go."

 _It's about time_ , a mean voice whispered inside Leonardo's head.

 _Shut up, you should have insisted more_ , Leonardo told it off.

The four turtles moved swiftly towards the chimney. As Raphael was grabbing Michelangelo, ready to carry him piggy-back style, they heard a rumble and had just the time to retreat before a shower of bricks and debris fell from the chimney, blocking the exit.

Leonardo spun, searching for hiding places.

"You were ill-advised to come back, thieves," a voice echoed in the room from a loudspeaker on the ceiling. "Now you will pay for your larceny."

Michelangelo gulped.

"What's the plan now, Donnie?"


	7. Pain

**Pain**

* * *

Donatello wished that their father had grounded them in the lair, after all.

 _What's the plan now, Donnie?_ Michelangelo had asked, and Donatello didn't know what to answer him. Right now, the implications of their situation and the possibilities held by their future were filling his mind. There were so many paths that he could choose. If someone came in, should they hide? Should they fight? What if a whole group of guards was coming in? Were there cameras in the room? Was it trapped with poisonous gas? With soporific gas? Why did the mysterious voice talk about thieves? What kind of madman trapped his own chimney?

What if he took the wrong decision, and his brothers got injured? He had to be certain that he was right. He needed to review every single possibility.

"Donnie!" Michelangelo insisted. "What do we do?"

"Uh… I… Okay…" Donatello began pacing. "If someone comes in and he's not armed, we… I mean… Raph takes him down. If he's armed, we hide and use shuriken to disarm him… Except if he has a bomb, because it could explode and we don't want that…"

"Why would he have a bomb?" Raphael said, looking at his purple-clad brother as if he had suddenly grown a second head.

"And… and… if two people enter, we do the same, except Leo helps Raph in the non-armed case… If three people enter, and one of them goes at Mikey, I block his path… Then if he goes back to the door, Raph fights him, and if he tries to hide, Leo takes him down, and…"

"Donnie, we don't have time for a whole flow chart!" Raphael shouted, placing himself in front of the genius to stop his pacing. "You're thinking too much! Just give us the general outline!"

"Thinking is what I do best!" Donatello shouted back, while his mind went on and on about the endless ways the future events could unfold. How did he choose?

"Then think faster!" Raphael replied, clenching his fists.

"Guys, do you really want to fight now?" Michelangelo interrupted them. "Can't you pick up another time? Like, a time when we won't be trapped in a strange room with strange stuff and a strange voice calling us thieves, and we are ninja, not thieves! This is offensive!"

Leonardo was watching the scene, desperate to intervene but not daring to second-guess Donatello. A leader was to be followed no matter what, right? Even if he had obviously no clue what he was doing. After all, there had been many times where Leonardo had had no clue what he was doing.

Raphael threw up his hands and turned towards his blue-clad brother.

"This is hopeless! Leo! Do something!"

"Donnie is supposed to decide," Leonardo answered weakly.

"Obviously he can't!"

"I can!" Donatello answered, mortified. But he looked at Leonardo in a pleading way. "But I… I…" An idea suddenly occurred to him. "I could use your input. Yes. What do you think of this?"

As Leonardo hesitated, Donatello insisted.

"That's an order. Tell me what you think."

"I think we are ninja," Leonardo answered immediately. If he was ordered to speak his mind, then it wasn't second-guessing, right? "We use stealth, not brute force. This place has tons of good hiding places."

"Alright," Donatello answered, obviously relieved. "Then we hide. Hide, now!"

Donatello and Raphael disappeared, one behind a shelving unit and the other behind a tapestry. Leonardo didn't follow them immediately, turning to Michelangelo instead. His orange-clad brother was crawling towards a display unit with impressive speed. Reassured, Leonardo ran to the door and jumped to grasp the lamp above it. It was ancient and imposing and could withstand his weight for the half-second he needed to reach the ceiling and the grips offered by its wooden beams.

Then he waited in complete silence.

A few seconds later, the door burst open with a loud crack, and a group of six men armed with shotguns came in.

 _Shotguns. In a room displaying antics. Who is the madman behind this?_ Leonardo wondered. It was bad.

"Show yourselves, thieves, and you won't be hurt…yet," one of the men shouted, and the other men laughed.

Leonardo tensed. Their best course of action would be to take them down as swiftly as possible, before the guards had time to register what was happening. It was of the utmost importance that they didn't shoot. In this room, even if the turtles managed to avoid the bullets, they would be unable to protect themselves completely from the shards of glass and splinters of wood and metal. Not to mention that Michelangelo was hurt and couldn't move as nimbly as was necessary.

But it meant that the guards would be hurt too. Were they really that stupid?

 _Maybe these shotguns don't shoot bullets._

What was it about, then?

Leonardo took a closer look at the weapons, and got his answer.

 _Darts. They want to capture us. At least, it means that they don't want to get the police involved._

They would want to deal with their prey on their own. To punish the supposed thieves.

 _What will happen when they realize that we are humanoid turtles?_

Leonardo refused to think about it. As if it had a mind of its own, though, his head tilted towards the part of the room who displayed stuffed animals heads.

They had to get out of here.

Leonardo watched in Donatello's direction, ready to take action as soon as he would get the substitute leader's signal.

But none was coming.

* * *

Donatello was watching the group of guards with rising anxiety. How were they going to get out of here? Should they attack immediately, or wait until the guards scattered across the huge room? The second possibility would make it easier for the turtles to take the guards down, but it increased the risk that they got to Michelangelo first.

Which path would give the best probability for victory?

The guards began moving, and Donatello bit his lip. Now he had to think about an appropriate reaction in case they stayed together, and about another one in case they got separated, and…

 _This is impossible. How does Leo manage to make his decisions in a matter of seconds?_

Donatello moved silently to have his blue-clad brother in his line of sight. He was hiding between the wooden beams of the ceiling.

 _Good idea,_ Donatello thought. _This way, we can fall on our opponents._

In a nimble move, he used the shelves behind which he was hiding to climb up, still without a sound.

The guards were staying together, each pointing his shotgun in a different direction. They were advancing steadily towards the chimney, and Michelangelo's hideout.

 _We have to do something, quickly._

But what?

Donatello chewed his lip in anxiety. He was beginning to panic. What was Leonardo's hand-signal code, already? Why didn't it have a signal for 'I have no clue whatsoever, do what you want'?

In desperation, Donatello vaguely waved his fingers at Leonardo. Maybe it was a true signal, or maybe his brother was just desperate to act, but suddenly Leonardo was moving on the ceiling and Donatello heard the soft whistling of shuriken being thrown.

 _Shuriken, of course. I had totally forgotten about these._

The ninja stars hit their targets, and four of the guards dropped their shotguns in pain.

 _Good_ , Donatello thought. _Only two more weapons to go._

The purple-clad turtle felt the tapestry behind him move, and watched Raphael silently advance towards the guards. The sai wielder used the guards' confusion to take down two of them. Leonardo dropped from the ceiling and landed on another guard, before using a discarded shotgun as a club to knock out another.

 _I should do the same,_ Donatello suddenly realized. Swinging on the ceiling, he chose his target and jumped on him, unsheathing his bō staff and knocking out the last remaining guard.

In the silence that followed, Michelangelo crawled out of his hiding place with a grin.

"Nice job, guys. Now could we please get out of here?"

Donatello jolted into action again.

"Yes. Let's go! Run for your life, guys!"

He ran to the door while both Leonardo and Raphael helped Michelangelo stand up, each supporting him on one side. The shorter turtle's feet hang inches from the floor while his brothers began running to Donatello.

"That's a cool way of escaping, guys," Michelangelo chattered happily as he wriggled his toes, his arms safely grasping his brothers' shoulders. "Can't we use it more often?"

"Shut up, Mikey," Raphael answered through gritted teeth.

Leonardo's face was an unreadable mask. Whatever he was thinking right now, he didn't want to share with his brothers.

Donatello reached the door and opened it, realizing too late that if anyone was behind it, he would make an easy target. Luckily for him, the hallway was deserted.

"Which way?" Raphael asked, and Donatello frowned.

The hallway looked exactly the same on the left and on the right. No conduits on the ceiling to help him make a decision.

"Uh… we…"

What if he led his brothers right into a trap?

If he had been alone, he would have taken one of the directions, relying on fate. But he was leading his brothers, and their safety depended on his decision.

"Donnie…" Raphael muttered.

"I'm trying, Raph!" Donatello spat, finally bursting out. "Give me a minute!"

"I don't think we have a minute," Michelangelo pointed out.

From both directions, they could hear footsteps running.

Donatello froze. What were they supposed to do now? Come back the way they came? It was a dead-end. Choose one way and fight the guards? But the question remained: left or right?

"I…I…"

"Donnie!" Raphael shouted.

"I don't know! I have no idea!" Donatello shouted back. "I'm sorry, okay?"

He turned back to Leonardo.

"Leo, I have no idea how to do this. Help me. Please."

Leonardo watched him in surprise, his deep blue eyes meeting Donatello's pleading ones. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could answer, there was uproar on the left, the sound of bodies being thrown on the walls, and a brown shadow emerged from the corner.

The four turtles watched the shadow approaching them, their mouth agape.

"Sen-sensei?" Donatello finally uttered. "What are you doing there?"

"Not now, Donatello," Splinter answered kindly.

The ninja master suddenly noticed Michelangelo, sandwiched between Leonardo and Raphael.

"Michelangelo! Are you injured?"

"It's just a sprained ankle," Michelangelo quipped. "I'm fine, Sensei."

Splinter took a deep breath.

"We have to go. We don't have much time. Follow me."

Taking Michelangelo in his arms, he began retracing his steps.

Nodding, the three remaining turtles hurried behind him. Donatello was immensely relieved that someone else had taken over, Raphael was keeping his gaze on Michelangelo, now safely huddled in their father's arms, and Leonardo bowed his head in shame. They had indeed failed badly if their father had considered that he had to come to their rescue.

His gaze on the floor, he suddenly noticed something gleaming slightly in the light. Leaning, he touched it. It was warm, and sticky, and red.

Blood.

Raising his head, Leonardo noticed that there were more drops of it in his father's trail.

He thought that his heart would stop beating. It sure felt that way. This couldn't be happening. This was an impossibility.

Leonardo's voice was much more childish than he would have wanted when he finally spoke, still running behind his family.

"Sensei! You're hurt!"


	8. Anger

**Anger**

* * *

At first, Raphael didn't process Leonardo's words, but something in his brother's tone – his desperation maybe, or the sheer incredulity that he couldn't hide completely – made him stop in his tracks.

Then the meaning of these words hit him.

"What?" he shouted, watching Leonardo. "What are you saying?"

The blue-clad turtle used his left hand to grasp Raphael's arm and force him to start running again. He turned his right hand towards the red-clad turtle, his face a pale green, and even through the race, Raphael could discern the viscous liquid glowing on Leonardo's fingers – he knew what made such a gleam, he saw it regularly, except it wasn't supposed to belong to a member of his family, ever – and he couldn't restrain the cry of anguish that escaped his treacherous mouth, but nobody seemed to care.

After all, stealth wasn't an issue anymore.

"Fa-father?" Donatello exclaimed, and he swiftly circled Splinter to check with his own eyes if this was true, if the ninja master was hurt – as impossible as it seemed.

And there, on his father's left leg, was a deep cut, hidden by his hair but still there – and bleeding.

"Dad?" Michelangelo said, his turn to get upset, and he raised his head to look at his father's face, taking in both his resolved expression and his loving smile.

Splinter sighed, and shook his head. He had hoped that he could hide it from his sons, at least a little longer – that they would be too busy running away to notice his injury, which wasn't bleeding as much as it had at the beginning. And if Splinter felt a little light-headed right now, he was still able to fight, especially for his sons' safety. But it hadn't escaped Leonardo's notice, and Splinter couldn't say that he was surprised.

"Do not worry, my sons. I will be fine."

It wasn't a lie, not really – he would be fine as long as they escaped in the next few minutes, and he could properly bandage the cut it so it would stop bleeding completely.

"But how… how did this happen?" Donatello asked, with a tremulous note in his voice that made Splinter's heart ache.

"The owner of this house does not welcome unexpected guests," he simply said.

"Yeah, we noticed," Michelangelo answered, with a slight note of humor in his voice; it was trembling but it held, and Splinter was grateful for his son's attempt at lightening the atmosphere.

He hold his son tighter, hoping to conjure the memory of seeing him fall in this chimney, of watching his three other sons disappear inside in his wake, before the chimney's top exploded and a black-clad man went out, checked the remnants of brick and mortar and said in a microphone "This time we got them, Sir!"

That man was now lying unconscious on the rooftop, and Splinter had been astonished at the violence he had displayed in knocking him out, a violence not unlike the one he was helping his son Raphael to control.

It had been a matter of seconds for the ninja master to find another entry inside the house, but it had been heavily trapped and one of the traps – designed to kill an ordinary man - had left a cut in his left leg.

Whoever the owner of this house was, he was extremely dangerous and mad or powerful enough not to care about leaving corpses.

All the more reason to leave this wretched place as fast as they could.

Splinter took another turn, determined to exit the building where he had entered it. There, he was confident that he had already triggered every possible trap.

However, he wasn't prepared for the living barrier of guards in the passageway; not when he had already knocked out so many of their colleagues.

The ninja master came to an abrupt stop, his body curling around Michelangelo's form to shield his injured son from potential blows, and retreated behind the corner. Darts missed him by inches. Behind him, he heard Donatello and Raphael unsheathe their weapons, and suddenly regretted that Leonardo's katana were hanging in Splinter's own bedroom.

He didn't want to, but he might have to leave Michelangelo with his brothers to take down these opponents – hoping that his leg would put up with the effort.

In the end, he didn't have to.

"Stay with Sensei and Mikey," he heard Leonardo say to Donatello, in a voice that he had never heard before – but from Donatello's quick nod, his purple-clad son did – and all hell broke loose.

* * *

Despite his state of shock, a detached part of Leonardo's mind was still assessing the situation coldly.

His father may be hurt, but he was still moving at high speed and obviously able to fight. Although it would probably be best if he avoided it.

Michelangelo was hurt, but Donatello, Raphael and himself were not.

So they could fight.

That was good. Right now, Leonardo wanted to forget about this whole ordeal, about his utter failure at following after he had failed at leading, and about the fact that his father's blood was sticking to his fingers.

This was all his fault. If he had stopped Michelangelo's playing in the first place, none of this would have happened.

Leonardo had seen the weapons, of course – but there was no way such a contingency would stop him. Not when his entire family was their target.

Forgetting he wasn't supposed to lead, forgetting everything that wasn't his family's immediate safety, he quietly addressed Donatello.

"Stay with Sensei and Mikey."

Then he nodded to Raphael, who met his gaze with equally infuriated eyes, and threw his remaining shuriken in a curve. When he heard the cries of pain and shouts of anger, he threw one of Donatello's ninja smoke bombs and reappeared in the middle of the group of guards, Raphael guarding his back.

At this point, it didn't matter that he hadn't his katana. He didn't need them to punch and kick the humans, who obviously lacked short-range weapons, and from the sounds behind him, he knew that Raphael had sheathed his sai and was using his fists to reduce their opponents to a pulp.

"It's safe," Leonardo announced a few seconds later in a calm, detached voice, and Splinter, Michelangelo and Donatello hurried towards them.

"The exit is only a few meters away," Splinter said quietly, but Leonardo couldn't bring himself to look at him right now, so he didn't know if his father was mad that he hadn't waited for his command before attacking.

The five mutants reached the exit – an open window on the second floor – and climbed up to the rooftop before running away from the building.

Minutes later, they found a manhole cover and disappeared in the sewers.

* * *

"There, Sensei. This temporary bandage will stop the bleeding until we arrive at the lair," Donatello said softly.

Splinter had no idea where he had hidden it, but it seemed that his purple-clad son considered clean gauze a must-have.

 _And he has just been proved right_ , Splinter thought sadly.

"Good," the ninja master panted. The blood loss was taking its toll. He felt more and more light-headed. Maybe he could rest for a minute or two, now that his sons were safely hidden in the sewers again.

"Father?" Donatello said, his eyes widening in alarm. "Father!"

The purple-clad turtle rushed to Splinter's side and supported him as the tall rat fainted.

"He has lost too much blood!" Donatello exclaimed, worried but not desperate. If his father had made it this far, he would be fine. His body just needed rest to reconstitute the lost blood. _Blood transfusion would fasten the process, but none of us is compatible. That's why I didn't collect Sensei's blood – why did it never occur to me that we would need it for him?_

"It's a miracle he lasted that long. He should have fainted a long time ago."

"He's a ninja master," Raphael answered defiantly.

"We will have to carry him. I can help," Michelangelo offered.

"No way, Mikey, you can't put weight on your ankle or you will aggravate your injury," Donatello said, shaking his head.

"Raph, Donnie and I will carry Sensei back to the Shellraiser," Leonardo said in a mournful voice. "You will have to lean on one of us and hobble."

"Come with me, Mikey," Raphael offered, gentler than usual because his brother was injured.

As his red-clad brother glanced at him, Leonardo couldn't help seeing reproach in his green eyes.

 _He's blaming me,_ Leonardo thought glumly. _He's right, this is all my fault. I failed them, and now both Sensei and Mikey are injured. Donnie can't be held responsible; I didn't help him like I should have._

As they began their journey home, it didn't occur to him that he was granting his brother something he was denying himself: forgiveness.

* * *

In a richly decorated study, sitting on a comfortable leather armchair, a fat but powerfully built man with too many rings on his fingers watched the images recorded by his security cameras with an expression of pure glee.

 _Who are those creatures?_

These beautiful mutants pushed his little thieves problem into the background. He had to possess them. Dead or alive, they would be the highlight of his collection.

He pushed a button on his desk.

"Are the tracers active?"

" _Yes, Sir,_ " somebody answered at the other end of the line.

"Good. Then follow them. And this time, don't miss."


	9. Safe?

**Safe?**

* * *

To the four turtles, it seemed that the trip back to the Shellraiser lasted hours. In fact, it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes – but those were twenty minutes carrying as gently as possible a giant unconscious rat, or hobbling with an arm around a sibling's shoulders in Michelangelo's case.

Despite his still vivid concern, Donatello felt much better now that Leonardo had taken over again. This way, the purple-clad turtle was free to focus on what he did best. He was thinking about how he would help his father recover, and how Michelangelo's sprained ankle still needed treatment – his complete first aid kit was in the Shellraiser, so he would be able to properly immobilize his brother's ankle, as much as clean his father's wound before bandaging it again. And who was the madman behind their crazy misadventure? He would have to check it. Maybe he could learn it from the Internet. Crazy people tended to be famous more often than not these days. Donatello shook his head in disapproval.

Michelangelo was quenching his worry about Splinter's health by thinking of new creative ways to use the crutches that his brothers were bound to make him use, unaware of the fact that he was crushing Raphael's shoulders, both from concern and from the throbbing pain in his injured ankle.

Raphael wasn't complaining, secretly comforted by his brother's embrace. He was on the rear, lifting Splinter's legs while Leonardo and Donatello were holding the rat's chest, each on one side. The red-clad turtle was trying to control his anger and anxiety at their situation.

His father had been hurt, and was unconscious from blood loss. His brother had been hurt, and couldn't walk home – and he, Raphael, couldn't both carry him and help lifting Splinter. His father was even heavier than he looked, and that was saying something – so Michelangelo had to hobble. It had to be truly painful. Raphael had no doubt about it because his orange-clad brother wasn't complaining at all. Raphael was mad at the man responsible for this. He had enjoyed beating the guards in that corridor, hurting them more than was strictly necessary. He wasn't especially proud of that, but at the same time, he didn't feel especially guilty. They had wanted to hurt his family further. They got what they deserved.

Raphael tilted his head to brush Michelangelo's cheek, and got a warm smile in answer. He glanced at Donatello, who was obviously lost in thought and unconsciously muttering. Raphael couldn't discern the words, but he supposed that it had to do with medical stuff. Donatello had taken upon himself to be the doctor of the family, and the red-clad turtle didn't envy him one bit.

Then he glanced at Leonardo, and his expression darkened. Despite the fact that the blue-clad turtle wasn't hurt – he had sworn to Donatello that he wasn't, and Raphael could only believe him – the sai wielder was concerned about his brother.

He had been glad that Leonardo had taken the lead again – Donatello hadn't done a very good job, although to be fair, he had to face a really unusual and difficult situation. Every patrol didn't end up with the four of them trapped in a madman's house. And at least Donatello hadn't completely panicked like Raphael had during his short-lived time as leader.

However, Raphael didn't like the fact that Leonardo had hardly spoken to them since they had escaped, and he was still trying to figure out the strange look that his brother had exchanged with him earlier. Raphael had meant to convey his relief to him, because Leonardo was acting like a leader again – which was supposed to be the case, as much as it could irritate Raphael sometimes – but his blue-clad brother had seemed distant, almost…hurt.

 _What's the matter with him?_ Raphael wondered, not for the first time since the day before.

* * *

Leonardo was focusing on taking small, sure steps.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

Each step meant they were closer to the Shellraiser, closer to their home – where they could take proper care of their injured father.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

Donatello hadn't seemed as worried as he could have been, so Leonardo was pretty sure that Splinter would be fine.

Of course, he was still worrying like crazy.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. I know these tunnels, we're getting closer._

Michelangelo needed medical attention too. He shouldn't have to move like this, it couldn't be good – but they had no choice, leaving him behind was out of the question.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Beware the corner, don't let the wall graze Father's arm._

Leonardo was grateful that neither Donatello nor Raphael had been hurt. Otherwise, their situation would have been far worse.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

Donatello hadn't seemed to mind that Leonardo had stepped forward, although he had had no intention too – it had been automatic, an ingrained reflex.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. But it wasn't my place to do so, not after I quitted._

And Raphael was blaming him, Leonardo was sure of it. Probably not as much as Leonardo was blaming himself, of course.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. I failed them. I didn't prevent Mikey from falling, I didn't manage to convince Donnie to leave in time, I didn't support him like I should have._

How could Raphael not blame him? This mess was all Leonardo's fault.

* * *

In his study, the fat collector was watching red dots moving on a screen. These miniaturized tracers were a true marvel. They were small enough to go unnoticed among, let's say, the soot and dust you could find in a chimney's conduit, they stuck to the skin, and if you pointed an antenna in their direction, you received a distinctive signal. Although it was admittedly fainter than the collector had expected. They must be underground. It made sense: with their rather unusual physical appearance, the mutants obviously couldn't walk the streets.

Right now, the dots were moving rather slowly. They were obviously progressing with caution. The collector had given the order not to attack them right now; he was curious to know where they were going.

 _Maybe there are more like them._

He rubbed his hands in anticipation. With all his men on their trail, the mutants stood no chance. They could fight decently, especially the giant rat – but two of them were injured, and they couldn't escape their pursuers.

The collector watched printed pictures of the mutants. A rat and four turtles. _How peculiar_ , he mused. He hated rats, this filthy vermin, but he quite liked turtles. He had had a pet turtle when he was a small child. However, it had been lost to him years ago. His grief had been devastating at the time.

And now, life was giving him a chance to have another pet turtle. Four would be too much – he would stuff the three others.

 _Which one should I keep?_ he mused, sliding his fat fingers on the pictures.

* * *

Every ordeal has an end, and four very tired turtles finally reached the manhole cover that was nearest to the Shellraiser. Lifting Splinter up was as hard as they had expected it, but they managed nonetheless, Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael pushing and pulling the ninja master as if he was a giant puppet while Michelangelo was careful not to let his father's head bump against the walls or the ladder's metal bars.

After that, carrying Splinter into the Shellraiser was child's play.

Leonardo took the wheel while Raphael helped Donatello take care of their father, then of their orange-clad brother. Michelangelo grimaced in relief when his sprained ankle was finally properly bandaged, and began joking again to his brothers' utter relief.

"I'm telling you, guys, this is the latest trend," he said, pointing at his bandage. "You three look so unfashionable without it. But I'm generous, I will let you have your own. And then we can color them! Mine will be orange, Donnie's should totally be purple and Leo's has to be blue."

Then Michelangelo winked at Raphael.

"I'm sorry, Raph, but yours can't be red. It would look too much like actual blood. But I think a nice pink would do the trick. Don't you?"

Raphael patted his orange-clad brother's head, not daring to smack Michelangelo so soon after he fell down a chimney.

"Sure, Mikey. Great idea," the red-clad turtle said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

* * *

The fat collector watched his screen in utter disbelief. The red dots had suddenly disappeared. He immediately called his second in command.

"What's happening?" he demanded, his jowls inflating and reddening in displeasure.

" _I don't know, Sir,"_ his answer came. " _We saw them resurface. They were carrying the rat; he must have fainted. Then they climbed in a pickup and we lost the signal."_

"Follow them," the collector ordered. "Don't let them escape! They will be mine!"

" _Yes, Sir!"_

* * *

Donatello had sat down at his appointed place, and was watching his screens, frowning. Raphael noticed it immediately and came closer.

"What's the matter, Donnie?"

"We are being followed," Donatello answered. "How could they trace us so easily?"

Raphael clenched his fists.

"They dare? That's perfect. I wanted payback anyway."

"Not while Mikey and Sensei are injured, you don't," Donatello retorted. "Leo, I'm sending you the images."

"Got it, Donnie," Leonardo answered flatly from the driver's seat. "I'll lose them."

"Be careful in the curves," Donatello warned him. "Sensei has no seat belt."

Leonardo gave a curt nod and began accelerating. Raphael grumbled, unhappy to be denied his revenge, and reported his attention back on Donatello.

"So how could they trace us, what do you think?" he asked, repeating Donatello's earlier question.

"Hmm," Donatello answered, sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration. "Let me see…"

He typed a sequence of code and watched with interest the results displayed on one of the screens.

"That's it! They must have put tracers on one or all of us," Donatello exclaimed. "The Shellraiser is detecting an antenna pointed at us. But don't worry, this baby is electromagnetically shielded."

"Uh?" Michelangelo and Raphael both said, and Donatello sighed.

"They can't trace us while we're inside the Shellraiser."

"But they will once we exit it," Leonardo deduced, reaching at the same time for the parking brake, appointed star of the last part of his let's-lose-our-enemies driving plan. Raphael cautiously grasped Splinter's robes to prevent him from sliding, just in case. "How do we avoid it?"

"Don't worry," Donatello answered, taking out of nowhere a device looking like the cursed offspring of a blender and a miniaturized lawn mower. "I've got this."

Michelangelo and Raphael both gulped, and this time, Donatello grinned.

* * *

The collector's second in command felt sweat drip from his forehead. Taking his phone, he prepared for the inevitable outburst of his boss.

"Sir… I'm sorry to report that we lost them."

Then he quickly moved the phone away to avoid losing his hearing. The collector's rants were famous, but brief – and when he would have calmed down, he would come up with a plan. There was no way he would allow five mutant freaks to get the better of him.

* * *

Once Donatello had determined that the tracers were on their skin – a process which wasn't painful at all, to his brothers' greatest relief - it was easy enough to get rid of them. Needless to say, the genius kept a sample for further study.

Leonardo had managed to leave their pursuers behind, and they soon arrived at the lair. Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael carried Splinter on the couch, then Donatello hurried to his lab to grab a home-made IV line for Splinter.

Michelangelo settled next to his father, huddling close. Donatello made a mental note to make him crutches.

Reassured that both his father and his orange-clad brother would be fine, Raphael sighed in relief. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Leonardo leaving the living room, and ran after him.

"Hey Leo," Raphael said, smiling. "I'm glad you came back to your senses."

Leonardo tensed visibly before turning over.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it wasn't even funny. Donnie had obviously no clue what he was doing, and…"

"You shouldn't say that," Leonardo cut him off abruptly.

Raphael bristled.

"I'm saying what I want. That's the truth."

Seeing Leonardo's glare, Raphael shook his head. He didn't want to argue with his brother right now.

"Anyway," he went on carefully, "I'm glad you're back. As leader."

There, he had said it. It was what he had wanted to say since Leonardo had stepped forward, back inside this crazy house.

But his blue-clad brother, looking angry, and sad, and so _tired_ , only frowned more.

"I'm not," he retorted. "I haven't changed my mind."

"What?" Raphael shouted in disbelief. "But what you did…"

"It's not happening again."

Open-mouthed, Raphael didn't try to stop his brother when he abruptly left for the bathroom in the obvious purpose of taking a well-deserved shower.

That wasn't how Leonardo was supposed to react. He was supposed to smile, and thank Raphael for his support, and bump fists with him.

Feeling a presence behind him, Raphael turned over and met Donatello's concerned glance. The red-clad turtle threw up his hands.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"We have to convince him," Donatello answered, twisting his hands. "I'm not willing to lead again."

"That would probably be better," Raphael answered grumpily, sending an arm across his taller brother's shoulders. "Don't take it wrong, Donnie, but I wasn't exactly convinced."

Donatello shrugged.

"I suppose I can't argue much. I don't think I'm cut out for being the leader of _this_ team."

As the purple-clad turtle leaned against Raphael for comfort, he thought about the conversation he had just overheard. Leonardo had seemed on edge – but the events of the night had been exhausting, both physically and mentally.

 _Tomorrow, I'll talk to him._


	10. Bargaining

**Bargaining**

* * *

After his shower, Leonardo waited for a while in his room before daring to go back to the living room. He didn't want to answer Raphael's outraged questions nor face his lack of understanding. At first, he had the firm intention to meditate about the recent events, but he couldn't get past the thought of his unconscious and injured father resting on the couch. In the end, he just gave up and lay on his bed, brooding.

When Leonardo deemed his brothers to be asleep, he grabbed his blanket and stood up, making his way silently through his pitch black room and the deserted corridor to the dimly lit living room.

As he had expected it, his three brothers had gathered in the living room for the night. None of them wanted to leave their father's side, not when he was in such a weak state. Michelangelo was still curled up against Splinter's side, sound asleep. Someone had draped a blanket over him. Raphael was snoring against his pillow, slumped against the back of the couch and wrapped in his own blanket. Donatello was sitting on a chair next to Splinter's IV line, eyes closed and breathing deeply. His laptop was on his lap and dangerously threatening to fall on the floor. Despite himself, Leonardo smiled fondly and delicately put the laptop aside. Considering that the purple-clad turtle was the only one not covered with a warm blanket, Leonardo deduced that he had been the one to wrap Michelangelo and Raphael and had forgotten to take one for him. How typical.

Retracing his steps, Leonardo silently headed for Donatello's room and entered it, focusing on not stepping on the mechanical pieces and piles of books scattered on the floor as he grabbed his brother's own blanket. Luckily, Donatello's alarm clock gave a dim light.

Leonardo frowned. Now that he thought about it, that light was dimmer than usual. Leaning toward the alarm clock, he caught sight of a rectangular piece of paper partly masking the light. The blue-clad turtle looked at it, a lump in his throat. It was a picture of April and Donatello in the lab, happily working on one of April's scientific school projects. Leonardo sighed sadly.

 _She used to be so close to each of us, especially to Donnie. And now she's not even talking to us._

Yet another person that he had let down.

Turning away, Leonardo went back to the living room and gently covered Donatello with the blanket. Taking a last look at his sleeping family, he curled up on the floor and reached for his own blanket. Lulled by the reassuring sounds of his brothers' and father's breathing, he quickly fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to Leonardo, Donatello slowly opened his eyes to watch his blue-clad brother. He hadn't been completely asleep and he had felt his brother's presence, but chosen not to reveal it.

Donatello was relieved to see that Leonardo's features were relaxed right now. He distractedly checked Splinter's IV line before leaning once again against the back of his chair, musing.

 _Physically, Leo's only inches_ _away_ _from me right now. So why do I have the feeling that he is, in fact, miles away_?

* * *

Next morning, when Donatello woke up, Leonardo had already disappeared from the living room. The purple-clad turtle wasn't surprised. His brother was the earliest riser of the four turtles.

While he disentangled himself from his blanket, Donatello watched his father. Splinter looked much better than he had the day before and Donatello was fairly confident that he would wake up soon.

Standing up, Donatello headed for the kitchen. He was going to use the quiet hours of morning to talk to Leonardo. He just needed coffee first.

When he had poured an unhealthy dose of caffeine inside his organism, Donatello made for the dojo with a mug of hot tea. And sure enough, Leonardo was here, quietly going through kata.

"Good morning, Leo," Donatello called from the door.

His brother finished his sequence of moves before turning to the purple-clad turtle hesitantly.

"Hi, Donnie. How is Sensei?"

"He looks better," Donatello answered, entering and offering his brother the mug.

Leonardo took it gratefully and sat down cross-legged to sip his tea.

"Thanks, Donnie."

"Mikey and Raph are still sleeping," Donatello went on slowly. "I intend to investigate and see what I can discover about the house Mikey fell into. But I needed to talk to you first."

Donatello sat in front of his brother, careful to keep a neutral tone.

"How are you feeling today, Leo?"

"I should be the one asking this question," Leonardo replied, not looking his brother in the eye. "You've been through a lot yesterday. And I'm sorry I didn't help you that much."

Donatello shook his head, secretly relieved that Leonardo had approached the topic first.

"You helped a lot. It's just that I'm not made for the job of leader."

Leonardo frowned.

"Don't say that. It was a really difficult situation. I wouldn't have done better."

Donatello leaned forward.

"Yes, you would have, Leo," he answered softly but with conviction. "That's my point. And I think that's what Raph tried to tell you yesterday."

Leonardo raised an eye ridge and Donatello shrugged.

"Yes, I heard what he told you. And I must say I agree with him."

"You're too harsh with yourself."

 _Me?_ Donatello thought _._ I _am too harsh with myself? Do you really want to go there, Leo?_ But he carefully let it slip. He didn't want to annoy his brother, and unlike Raphael, he knew when to avoid a sensitive topic.

"I'm just acknowledging the truth, Leo. I had no clue what I was doing, it's a fact. And you know I rely on facts."

Leonardo didn't answer, pretending to be engrossed in finishing his tea. Donatello waited patiently, not pushing him.

"What are you trying to tell me, exactly?" Leonardo finally asked his purple-clad brother.

With great reluctance, granted, but he did ask. Donatello straightened, satisfied. Patience always paid off.

"I don't want to be leader. During a fight, I want to focus on technical matters, scientific challenges and hitting my enemies in creative ways. Not betting our lives on a decision such as 'Should we go left or should we go right?' And Raph doesn't want to lead, and Mikey is out of the question. Not when he's unable to focus for more than five minutes on battle plans."

Donatello tilted his head, challenging his brother to contradict him on that last point. Leonardo didn't, and Donatello nodded, satisfied.

"It leaves only you."

"Donnie, when I said that I didn't want to be leader anymore, I meant it," Leonardo answered slowly. "I can learn to better help you, or Raph, without taking every decision."

Donatello watched him, eyes narrowed.

"It's not going to work and you know it."

Leonardo didn't answer and the purple-clad turtle sighed.

"Is this still about what happened when you trained us? If so, I'm sorry, Leo. I didn't mean to hurt you, I just wanted to have fun. And Raph went too far, but he's Raph, and he's still unable to tell a good joke apart from a bad one. Personally, I blame Mikey for this."

As Leonardo averted his eyes, Donatello leaned forward and gently put a hand on one of his brother's knees. He believed that he had made his point. Now it was better to leave Leonardo alone.

"Just think about it, okay? Take your time. We won't be patrolling until Sensei and Mikey are feeling better anyway, right?"

Leonardo nodded hesitantly, and Donatello took it as the small victory it was.

* * *

Leonardo watched his brother depart with despair. He had no doubt that Donatello sincerely believed every word he had said. If the purple-clad turtle wanted Leonardo to be the leader, it was because it was the most logical outcome in his eyes. And Donatello's reasoning was usually ironclad.

The problem was that Leonardo himself didn't believe it. It wasn't a question of logic, it wasn't about what made the most sense, it was about the feelings of loneliness and inadequacy that Leonardo was experiencing. He couldn't forget the moment when he had looked at his own reflection in his katana blade and seen the infamous inscription that so appropriately matched his name, nor the laughter of his brothers as they left him behind.

Leonardo closed his eyes to block the memory. Raphael, and now Donatello, had apologized to him. But could they swear that it wouldn't happen again?

 _Of course not. It has happened before, and it will happen again. Because I won't magically become a good leader. I had months to get better, and I didn't even manage to gain my brothers' respect._

It didn't solve their problem, though. What would happen if neither Donatello nor Raphael wanted to lead? Leonardo had to admit that Donatello was right, Michelangelo wasn't ready for that role yet. Not now, and maybe never.

Should he take the role back, knowing that it could only end in disaster? In a disaster much worse than yesterday's had been?

 _I couldn't even convince them to train seriously. How am I worthy of having their lives in my hands?_

* * *

A few hours later, Raphael was watching over both Splinter, still unconscious on the couch, and Michelangelo, who was testing his brand new crutches and moved and talked for both of them. Raphael distractedly listened to the orange-clad turtle blabbering. His thoughts kept coming back to Leonardo, whom he hadn't talked to since the day before, except for sentences like 'Pass the bread' and 'Where did you put the jam?' However, Raphael knew that Donatello had. He only hoped that the purple-clad turtle had had better luck than him. Leonardo's face had been unreadable at breakfast, another mask behind the blue one he tied on his head.

 _Leo, you stubborn turtle,_ Raphael thought. _Can't you see we need you?_

Donatello's shout interrupted his gloomy thoughts.

"Guys! You have to see this!"

Raphael hurried to Donatello's laboratory, along with Michelangelo. Leonardo rushed out of the dojo and joined them. Donatello was anxiously waiting for them, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"What's the matter, Donnie?" Michelangelo asked, skidding to a stop and scattering a few items in the process.

"Be careful, Mikey!" Donatello exclaimed, running after his precious devices. "Well, I was investigating the house we visited yesterday – and you guys will never believe how much data I gathered, the lunatic who owns it is extremely famous – and I also studied one of the tracers we found…" Donatello noticed Leonardo's worried glance and quickly reassured him. "I took every necessary precaution, don't worry. Anyway, there was a program encoded, and it included a cryptographic key and…"

Donatello seemed to realize that he was losing his brothers, and he took a deep breath.

"Never mind that. It's not important right now."

The genius turned to Leonardo, pleading.

"Leo. Remember how I told you that we would have time to figure out this leadership thing?"

Leonardo looked at him suspiciously.

"Yes?"

"Forget about that. We don't. Look!"

Turning his laptop screen so all of them could look at it, Donatello pointed at the image displayed in full size. It was a picture of the four of them with Splinter. A text written in a font imitating calligraphy was next to it.

"We are invited to a costume party."

Michelangelo blinked.

"Excuse me? Who would invite _us_? To a _party_?"

"The lunatic I told you about! He's foreign. A nobleman, if my information is correct. Sir Hubert. He's filthy rich and completely nuts. Rumor says he's a mental collector with unhealthy habits. He travels around the world to throw wild parties. And he's throwing one in New York tonight."

Raphael interrupted his brother.

"Nice job, Donnie, but can you come back to the invitation part?"

"That's one of his strange habits. The invitations are made publicly on his website, but they are encrypted. You have to decipher yours. I did that, and you will never believe how many celebrities will be there tonight! It's like, Sir Hubert's house is The Place To Be if you're famous, or powerful in any way!"

"Donnie…" Raphael warned.

"Right. One of them was for us. You need a special key – the one who was in the tracers – to read it. It is addressed to "the four terrapins and the rodent who so rudely invaded my house yesterday".

"This is bad," Leonardo muttered. "Anything else?"

"Oh yes. His writing style is terribly overblown, so if you don't mind, I will translate it in standard English."

"Do you even know how to do that?" Michelangelo teased him. "Your English is everything but standard, dude."

Donatello ignored the comment and went on.

"He dares us to come tonight. As it's a costume party, he believes that we can come as we are – or disguised, he doesn't care…"

"It's a trap," Leonardo stated calmly. "I suppose there is some sort of threat in his message?"

Donatello nodded anxiously.

"Yes. If we don't come and meet him personally, he will reveal our existence to the entire world."

The four brothers exchanged distressed glances. Raphael clenched his fists.

"Let's go and teach him not to mess with us."

"Let's go!" Michelangelo approved.

Donatello looked at him, arms crossed.

"Mikey? Sprained ankle, remember? You're going nowhere."

"Donnie! You can't do that to me! A costume party, dude! How many costume parties have we been invited to?"

"Until today, and present one excluded? Zero."

"See!"

Leonardo shook his head.

"I can't believe this is happening. How can this guy even throw a party in his house tonight? We pretty much trashed it."

"He's filthy rich, Leo," Michelangelo reminded him.

The orange-clad turtle used a crutch to tap Leonardo's plastron rhythmically.

"Filthy. Rich. I bet his house is as good as new right now."

"Mikey's right," Donatello sighed. "Money can buy a lot of things. Including the silence of the workers."

"So what do we do, Leo?" Raphael asked, turning to his blue-clad brother.

"Why are you asking me?" Leonardo protested.

"Oh please, not that again," Raphael exclaimed, exasperated. "You still don't want to lead? Fine. I'm going anyway."

"You can't!" Leonardo protested.

"I can! Or do you order me not to? You can't give orders if you're not leading, do you know that?"

Leonardo gritted his teeth.

"Be reasonable, Raph! What do you think is going to happen? Obviously, this madman wants to capture us!"

"Leo, please," Donatello pleaded. "This guy is crazy, I agree with you. That's why I believe he will do what he says. We can't take that risk. We have to stop him!"

"Yeah, we do!" Michelangelo added, lifting both his crutches and almost hitting Raphael in the process. "Oops."

"Mikey!" Raphael said threateningly. "Mind your crutches! And you're still not coming."

"Oh come on!" Michelangelo protested.

"No way, Mikey, you're hurt," Leonardo added with finality, still trying to find a way out of this situation. Preferably one which wouldn't involve his brothers and himself risking their lives in the hands of a crazy nobleman who spent half his life throwing select parties and the other half trapping his house and shooting darts at supposed thieves.

Michelangelo whined.

"No fair!"

Donatello patted his shell.

"Sorry, Mikey. But someone will have to watch over Sensei. And you can help us with our costumes!"

Leonardo watched his three brothers. There might be a way… He had to try it.

"I could go alone," he offered.

Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo turned towards him and crossed their arms in perfect harmony, their expressions reflecting various degrees of disbelief and displeasure.

 _Right._ Leonardo hadn't truly believed that it would work anyway.

"Forget about it, Leo," Raphael spoke sternly. "I'm coming no matter what. And I'm not leading."

"Same here," Donatello added seriously. "But I still believe we could use some teamwork. That guy means business."

Leonardo winced. He was cornered. All he could do right now was choose the lesser of many evils, and hope for the best.

With a heavy heart, he crossed his arms and swallowed back his doubts. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Fine. I'll lead. One last time."

As Raphael threw up his hands and exclaimed 'Finally! Then what's the plan?', and while Michelangelo rushed to hug Leonardo, Donatello couldn't help noticing that it wasn't a very enthusiastic answer.

 _We're still making progress_ , he thought. _Now we really stand a chance._


	11. Into the Lion's Den

**Into the Lion's Den**

* * *

On a rooftop facing Sir Hubert's house, Donatello, Raphael and Leonardo were watching disguised people entering through the main entrance. Donatello was commenting the scene for his brothers.

"That woman here is a famous singer… That man, a great musician… And there is the mayor… And look, the woman with him isn't his wife! How scandalous!"

"How can you know she's not his wife?" Leonardo asked, impressed. "I wasn't even sure that zebra was a woman."

"It's obvious, Leo," Donatello explained. "The mayor's wife's gait is completely different."

"If you say so."

"How come you know so much about New York celebrities, Donnie?" Raphael asked ironically. "I thought you hated tabloids and celebrity shows."

His voice sounded unusually grumpy, even for him. Donatello coughed.

"I have to gather as much knowledge as I'm able to. It's important, for… studying purposes."

"If the mayor has arrived, the party will properly start soon," Leonardo pointed out, changing the topic much to Donatello's relief. "We should go."

Raphael sighed heavily.

"Do we really have to?"

"If you're having second-thoughts, you can still go home," Leonardo suggested.

His offer was rewarded with a furious glare.

"Nope. I'm just saying, I wish we had more appropriate disguises."

"What's not appropriate with these disguises, Raph?" Donatello asked. "The whole purpose of costumes is to pretend to be someone entirely different."

"We're _glittering_!"

"Indeed, Raph, you're very observant," Leonardo deadpanned.

"Shut up. It's your fault anyway. Why did you give Mikey free rein over our costumes?"

"He was so sad to have to stay home," Leonardo answered matter-of-factly. "I wanted to cheer him up. You agreed on that."

Raphael went on, ignoring his brother's answer.

"And why, _why_ did you specify that he had to make us as visible as possible?"

"For protection. Sir Hubert will have a harder time making us disappear if we steal the show. Besides, Mikey did a great job. It's impossible to notice that we are mutant turtles."

"Donnie is a unicorn!"

"And my horn is detachable and very, very sharp," Donatello noticed happily.

"You are a ladybug," Raphael went on, addressing Leonardo. "Why, I wonder?"

"For good luck," Leonardo answered. "How nice of Mikey."

"And I… I…" Raphael choked.

"Come on, Raph, your disguise is great," Donatello teased him. "Very pretty."

"Shut up!" Raphael found his voice.

"You refused to be a unicorn," Leonardo remarked. "Or a ladybug. So you had to accept the third costume. And remember how happy Mikey was," he added with a touch of his former sense of humor. "Wasn't it worth it?"

Raphael threw up his hands.

"But why, why did it have to be a fairy?"

"Don't worry, Raph," Donatello said with glee. "You're making an amazing fairy. A little plump, maybe, and not very graceful, and really grumpy, but still… that dress! That hat! So fitting!"

Sighing, the ladybug got between the cackling unicorn and the growling fairy before the latter could destroy his glittering costume by an unwelcome wrestling act.

* * *

Leonardo's plan was simple and more than a little desperate. They were going to attend the party and speak with as many people as they could. They would pretend to be famous Japanese martial artists visiting New York. Donatello had checked the guests' list, and no Japanese officer would be present tonight. That way, they hoped that their story wouldn't be second-guessed.

It was dangerous, of course. They usually reduced their interactions with humans at minimum. Besides, none of the turtles had brought their weapons. Leonardo believed that Sir Hubert's security would be thorough and discreetly check everyone up. Donatello had agreed and added that considering the man involved, there would certainly be metal detectors and maybe even X-ray machines hidden in the entrance doorway. As the guards already knew that Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael were turtles, it wasn't as concerning an issue as it would otherwise have been.

Their costumes had been designed and realized with the utmost love and care by Michelangelo. They were true works of art, and would certainly attract everyone's attention. Besides, they concealed a few improvised weapons. Donatello's horn and his hooves were detachable. Raphael's veils were sewn with an extremely resistant fabric and could be used as ropes, either for escape of for tying people up. Leonardo's ladybug's spots could be used as projectiles, and his antennae were filled with a foul-smelling liquid.

Preparations had taken most of the day, and Splinter still hadn't woken up. Leonardo had finally resigned himself to leaving before he had the opportunity to talk to his father and ask for his wisdom. As much as the blue-clad turtle wanted his father to be awake and healed, he hoped that the ninja master would stay unconscious for the few hours to come. He wasn't sure that Splinter would approve of that particular plan, and he didn't want his father to worry about them.

 _At least Mikey is with him._

Leaving his orange-clad brother behind had been the most disheartening part. Without even mentioning the fact that they would be short of one powerful fighter, Michelangelo was utterly disappointed to be confined in the lair. Leonardo had done his best to soothe him, even though he was secretly relieved that at least one of them would stay safely out of the collector's grasp.

Leonardo was determined to do his best to get his brothers in and out. He was steadily fighting the mean voice instilling doubt inside his soul.

 _Even if Donnie is right and you're the best possible leader out of the four of you, it still doesn't mean that you're a good one._

The blue-clad turtle buried this last disheartening thought with the others and forced his mind to focus on the situation.

Signaling to his brothers to follow him, he skillfully climbed down the building and landed near a limousine on the street. Straightening up, he pretended to have just gone out of the car and began walking casually to the collector's brightly lit house, his brothers flanking him.

It was time to enter the trap and see if they could neutralize it before it killed them.

* * *

Michelangelo was sitting next to his unconscious father, watching television with the volume at minimum, when Splinter stirred. The orange-clad turtle immediately turned to him, in time to see the giant rat wearily open his eyes. Michelangelo immediately threw himself at him for a fierce and relieved hug.

"Sensei! You're awake!"

Splinter blinked before smiling warmly at his son.

"Yes, my son," he answered with a hoarse voice. "However, I won't stay awake for a long time if you don't let me breathe."

"Sorry," Michelangelo immediately said, and without letting his father go, he slid a little to the side so he wasn't leaning on Splinter's chest. "I'm so happy that you're awake!"

"You and me both, Michelangelo," Splinter answered, embracing his son.

The giant rat looked for his other sons, who would undoubtedly arrive soon, attracted by the commotion. As the seconds passed and no one came, he narrowed his eyes.

"Michelangelo, where are your brothers?"

Michelangelo's eyes widened, and he moved his head from side to side a few times as if he was searching for these brothers. Apparently convinced that none of them would come to his rescue, he laughed nervously.

"Oh, you're so going to love this. This is so epic! You won't believe your ears! That is, once I'll have told you! Because in fact, they are… they are…"

As the ninja master began frowning, the orange-clad turtle quickly finished his sentence, extending his injured leg to make sure his father remembered that he was now a poor hurt turtle that certainly couldn't be thrown across the room.

"They are at a costume party."

It must have worked, because Splinter didn't make a move and just watched his son with wide eyes for a few seconds.

"They are at a costume party. Is it what you just said, my son?"

"Yes," Michelangelo confirmed. "Absolutely."

"And whose party would that be?"

This time, Michelangelo cautiously stood up and took his crutches, which were glittering slightly.

"Oh, you must be thirsty. Let me bring you a glass of water before we go on with this fascinating conversation."

As Splinter didn't object, Michelangelo slowly retreated to the kitchen. Just before disappearing inside the room, he answered his father's question.

"You remember the house we visited yesterday? With its nice traps and nice guards and nice darts? Well, its owner invited us."

Then he rushed to the relative safety of the kitchen, leaving his father open-mouthed. The giant rat tried to sit down, but he was too dizzy. Straining his hoarse voice, he called in a tone that didn't tolerate contradiction.

"Michelangelo!"

* * *

Leonardo could hear the admiring whispers of the crowd as he and his brothers made their way to the entrance of the house. Donatello gave their printed invitation card to the doorman, who scanned it without comment before motioning for them to enter.

The door opened onto an inside garden. The party guests were walking around, enjoying the drinks and buffet. It was a beautiful place. Leonardo only hoped that it wasn't trapped like the upper levels of the house had been.

"Let's split up, guys," he whispered. "Remember, talk to as many people as you can, but keep the conversation short. Make them curious, so they will focus their attention on us."

"Of all the things I never thought I would hear from you…" Raphael grumbled, one hand on his fairy hat that kept sliding.

"Life is full of surprises," Leonardo retorted. "I never thought I would see you dressed up like this."

Raphael narrowed his eyes, but before he could protest, Leonardo and Donatello had already disappeared in the crowd. With a sigh, the usually red-clad turtle and currently rainbow-colored fairy – he didn't know what kind of revenge he would take on Michelangelo later, but it was going be terrible – turned to the nearest guest and started a conversation.

"Hi," he greeted him, trying to sound casual. "So, uh… how is the party going?"

The man, who looked stiff in his superhero costume, watched him with disdain.

"The party hasn't started yet. We're waiting for our host. Although I shouldn't be surprised that you're ignoring this, you look like you have no idea what good taste is."

The superhero turned away from the boiling fairy.

"Another parvenu," he muttered, leaving.

Raphael took a deep breath. Taking off his glittering scarf, he surreptitiously threw an end at the man's left foot before quickly putting it on again and leaving on light fairy feet.

He allowed himself a smile when he heard the satisfying bump of a contemptuous superhero's head colliding with the floor.

On the other side of the garden, Donatello was having fun. He was gracefully moving from one ladies' circle to another. The ladies were fond of his unicorn disguise and giggled at his well-phrased compliments, even the ones at the head of prestigious business empires. He didn't know if it was a side-effect of his costume or if he had a natural charm.

 _The latter is unlikely, considering how April rejected me,_ he thought sadly.

Donatello refused to let the thought dishearten him. This was probably his last opportunity to attend a costume party with humans, and he wanted to live it to the full. Besides, the party would probably crash down in spectacular fashion sooner or later. There was no time to lose.

"Hello, milady," he whispered to another woman dressed up as a witch. The woman frowned before discovering the shining unicorn who had spoken to her, and immediately softened. Donatello inwardly smiled. Another win for Michelangelo's costume.

Not far from them, Leonardo was discreetly keeping watch on the doors while performing idle chatter with an impressive dedication. Everyone was waiting for their host's appearance. Regular guests to Sir Hubert's parties had confided in him that you could never know what would happen on these receptions. Their host was renowned for his eccentricity, which didn't help appeasing Leonardo's worries. The ladybug politely took his leave and walked to another circle of disguised people. So far, their plan went well. Donatello the unicorn was a hit with ladies. On a different note, Raphael the grumpy fairy left behind him a trail of stumbling men. Leonardo had to admit that he was impressed by his brother's discretion. So far, none of his victims had noticed his little game.

A commotion made him turn around. The ceiling was opening, giving way to a small sized hot-air balloon. A fat man was leaning on the railing of the basket, smiling hugely. He was disguised as a hunter, massive rifle included. Leonardo had a bad feeling that it was loaded.

The man opened his arms and addressed the awed crowd.

"Welcome, welcome in my home! I'm honored that you accepted my humble invitation. I hope you will enjoy our first activity together. It's one of my favorites: a small hunt."

* * *

Splinter had removed his IV line and was drinking his glass of water. Michelangelo was sitting in front of him on the floor, watching him with worried eyes. The ninja master didn't know what was worse: that the mad collector who was the cause of both their injuries had proof of their existence, or that his three other sons had taken upon themselves to fall into his trap.

At least Leonardo was the leader this time. Splinter could only hope that his blue-clad son knew what he was doing. The ninja master was in no condition to rescue his beloved sons this time. Taking deep breathes to keep his anxiety under control, he extended an arm towards Michelangelo, and the orange-clad turtle swiftly nestled against him.

"Dad, do you think they will be okay?"

Splinter's ears twitched. Michelangelo was the only one of his sons who still called him 'Dad' sometimes, and the giant rat had to admit that he liked it.

"I certainly hope so, my son. Your brothers are resourceful. We have to trust them."

"Yeah, I guess," Michelangelo sighed.

Splinter tilted his head.

"Is something else on your mind, Michelangelo?"

He felt his son shrug and hug him tighter. Michelangelo finally raised his head, his light blue eyes filled with concern.

"Dad, how can I help Leo?"

Splinter blinked.

"What do you mean, help him?" he inquired tactfully.

Michelangelo shifted in his father's arms.

"I mean he's not himself right now. It's like he's not really here, and I don't know how to make him come back."

Splinter stroked his son's head with fondness, his heart filled with wonder and sorrow.

"My so caring Michelangelo. You're right. Your brother is having a difficult time right now. I am not entirely sure how to help him myself. He's feeling…inadequate, I think."

"It's stupid," Michelangelo muttered. "He's awesome, period."

Despite his worry, Splinter smiled.

"Then maybe you need to remind him."

"Can do," Michelangelo yawned. "'m tired. Do you mind if I take a nap?"

"Not at all, my son," Splinter whispered with love. "Not at all."

While his orange-clad son drifted into sleep, a comforting weight against his side, the ninja master turned his thoughts back to his other sons. He hoped with all his heart that they were alright.

* * *

"Here is what I suggest," Sir Hubert went on happily. "My men will chase you – for fun, of course – and try to get you to sleep with these small darts." The collector rolled one of said darts between his fingers. "Don't worry, they won't hurt you. The darts are named, and precisely dosed for each of you. We made special ones for those of you who have allergies. It won't be said that Sir Hubert doesn't take care of his guests!"

Leonardo felt his heart sink. If that was the collector's plan, it wouldn't matter that the disguised turtles had been noticed by almost everyone in the room. _But how was I supposed to know that he would lower himself to such an extremity?_ Leonardo thought.

Around him, the crowd was quivering with anticipation. Whispers of ' _He's exaggerating'_ and ' _How exciting!'_ could be heard. To Leonardo's surprise, the latter were more frequent.

"Bored people would accept anything for a little excitement," Donatello whispered in his ear, and Leonardo was relieved to see that both his brothers had joined him.

"Change of plan, guys," he whispered back. "Don't let them capture you."

"I didn't intend to," Raphael growled.

"My men only have one try for each of you," Sir Hubert went on. "Those of you who will still be standing at the end of our little game will have the privilege to visit my private collection, with me as their guide!"

From the excited whispers Leonardo heard, this was a rare occurrence.

"Let's begin! Have fun!" Sir Hubert roared, and the crowd scattered with cries of delight.

The first darts were shot, and a few people fell on the floor. Other darts landed on the plants or buffet, missing their targets. Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael had no problem avoiding them, even though their disguises made jumping harder.

However, it seemed that the collector had lied, and there were more than one dart per person, because whenever the guards missed someone, that someone was quickly got to sleep by another dart. Because of the general confusion, no one except the turtles seemed to notice.

Leonardo checked the doors, but they were locked. Donatello managed to notice where a few of the guards were hidden and successfully sent them their darts back. Raphael was moving gracefully to avoid the darts, his veils dancing across the leaves of the garden's bushes. In other circumstances, Leonardo would have laughed at the sight. But tonight, the stakes were too high. There was nothing fun in this situation.

 _Mikey would have managed to make fun of it, though_ , Leonardo thought distractedly.

The usually blue-clad turtle picked up a dart with the intent to shoot it at Sir Hubert, but the collector had disappeared. The ceiling was still wide open. Maybe they could use it at as an escape route?

"Guys, come here," Leonardo shouted. He was pretty sure that they were the only ones still standing right now.

Before the three turtles could begin their ascent, however, they were surrounded by guards pointing shotguns at them. The unicorn, the fairy and the ladybug froze.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sir Hubert's voice cooed. "Not if you want to stay awake for the visit you just won. And I should mention that this baby doesn't shoot darts."

The collector had reappeared in the hot-hair balloon's basket and was playing with his rifle.

"My dear, dear guests. Your costumes are truly magnificent. You're honoring me. But where are the two others?"

 _Now the game is truly on,_ Leonardo thought.

A game he was determined to win.


	12. Playing with Fire

**Playing with Fire**

* * *

Leonardo watched the collector in his hot-air balloon, the unconscious bodies of the disguised guests scattered everywhere in the inside garden, the circle of guards pointing weapons at him and his two brothers. The scene was surrealistic.

 _How are we going to get out of this one?_ he thought.

 _You won't. You can't. You're useless,_ a mean voice answered inside his head. _Lame-O-Nardo._

This time, Leonardo felt angrier than saddened at the thought. His attention was required elsewhere right now. He had no time for introspection. Couldn't he get a break while he was busy confronting a dangerous enemy? His brothers' lives were at stake!

 _Shut up. I'm not giving up. This isn't worse than a sinking alien spaceship. Shut up!_

Oddly enough, it worked. Although Leonardo knew that it was only temporary, he felt relieved. He refocused on the collector, who was speaking again.

"I don't mind the rat's absence," the collector went on. "I'll deal with him later. But I had really hoped that the fourth turtle would be there. How am I going to choose between the four of you now?"

 _Choose? What does he mean?_

This couldn't be good. Leonardo felt Donatello and Raphael tense at his side. His eyes searched the crowd for any possible weaknesses.

"I guess I'll have to settle for one of you," Sir Hubert sighed. "Would you mind taking off your costumes, so I could take a closer look at you?"

"We're not merchandise!" Raphael choked. "Come here and fight me if you dare!"

The collector lowered his rifle and used a hand to hide his mouth while laughing. Or more accurately, braying.

"Miss Fairy, I'm a gentleman. I don't fight ladies."

Leonardo rolled his eyes. The man had just ordered to shoot darts at his guests. It hadn't bothered him that there were women amongst the targets, then.

But the leader wasn't going to complain. It was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

"Raph, take down his weapon," he whispered to his fuming brother. "Donnie, you and I shield Raph. Then we're escaping through the ceiling. On my count…three…two…one…Now!"

Another bray drowned out this last word, but Raphael and Donatello knew what to do.

Donatello and Leonardo's costumes were shielding their arms, legs and heads more effectively than Raphael's, which relied more on make-up. Leonardo began sending his ladybug's spots in wide circles to knock out as many guards as possible, while Donatello detached his hooves and sent them around them. The hooves exploded in clouds of smoke, efficiently masking the three turtles. Then Leonardo took off his wings and used them as a tent to shield them from the shower of darts coming their way.

At the same time, Raphael used his scarf to grab the collector's rifle and pulled it. The human realized too late what was happening. He let go of his weapon to avoid being pulled out of the basket and ran away.

"Ha!" Raphael shouted as the rifle clattered on the floor. "Much better!"

The usually red-clad turtle happily kissed the piece of cloth in his hands.

"I love this scarf!" he exclaimed.

"I'm going to repeat that to Mikey!" Donatello replied.

"Donnie, leave the rest of your costume here," Leonardo ordered, ignoring his brothers' antics. "Raph, take off your veils. You'll need complete freedom of movement to avoid the upper levels traps."

"Too bad," Donatello sighed while complying. "It was a cool costume."

A few seconds later, a purple-clad turtle with a horn in his belt and a red-clad one still grasping the rainbow-colored scarf were standing next to the once again blue-clad Leonardo.

"I'm feeling like a turtle again," Raphael stated with great satisfaction, throwing at the same time the rifle still attached to the scarf over the hot-air balloon's basket. However, the rifle wasn't caught and fell again on the floor.

"Try again," Donatello advised.

"Thanks, genius," Raphael grunted.

His second try was a fail, and Raphael shook his head.

"How come Mikey always succeeds on his first try?"

"He has more training than you," Leonardo answered. "Plus he's a natural at clinging to things. Or people. Don't give up, we need to climb up that basket. And hold your breath."

His brothers looked at him with surprise, but quickly complied when they saw he was about to break the last remnants of his ladybug's disguise: the antennae.

As soon as Leonardo had done it, a foul smell spread, and the turtles heard cries of disgust.

 _It was high time_ , Leonardo thought. The guards had recovered from their earlier surprise and had been almost on them. Now they were choking on the floor. _It seems that Donnie was right and this perfume is unbearable._

Luckily, Raphael's third try succeeded, and the three turtles used the scarf as a rope. They climbed up the basket and used a walkway to reach the upper level.

"That's how Sir Hubert escaped," Donatello pointed out.

Raphael coiled his improvised rope.

"Let's go after him."

"We don't know where he went," Leonardo objected. "And we need weapons. This guy is a collector, he's bound to have weapons somewhere. Donnie, can you detect any traps?"

Donatello took his unicorn horn and began tapping the wall with it. Suddenly, he turned it round and sank its sharp end into a wooden panel. They heard a click and a guillotine's blade went down a few feet from them.

"Yes," Donatello answered casually to his admiring brothers.

"That guy is mad," Raphael whispered. "How does he manage to avoid its own traps?"

"He must carry something that disables them," Donatello mused. "And the traps are probably connected to a control panel somewhere."

"Let's find it, then," Leonardo decided. "We still have to find and destroy every information Sir Hubert has about us. It looks like a good place to start. Now be quiet."

The three turtles began their progression, Donatello disabling the traps and Leonardo and Raphael checking the rooms.

"Paintings… Paintings… Sculptures… More paintings…" Raphael mumbled. "No weapons. Except if we knock that madman out with a piece of his art."

"These paintings are worth a fortune," Donatello answered, frowning. "They've been created by the greatest artists in this world. There is no way I'll let you destroy one of them."

Raphael rolled his eyes.

"Not even this one?" he said, pointing at a tableau. "See, the notice says it's for _Raphael_."

Donatello checked it, an eye bridge raised.

"It means it has been painted _by_ Raphael, you moron. Your namesake. Unlike you, an amazing artist…"

"I'm an amazing _martia_ _l_ artist. Do you want me to show you, Donnie?"

"Guys, focus," Leonardo interrupted his brothers before the situation could degenerate. "Donnie, traps. Raph, weapons, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Raphael muttered. "No need to push it, O Fearless Leader."

Leonardo almost started at the unexpected use of this surname.

 _Not now, Raph_ , he thought. _Not again._

* * *

Finding the control room was taking more time than Donatello would have liked. Until then, his cleverly designed horn had allowed him to disable every trap, but there was no telling how long it would last. Hidden inside the sharp horn was a tiny chip working as a mini computer. The chip also sent waves which were amplified by the pointed design of the horn and disrupted electromagnetic signals. Considering he had had less than a day to design this little marvel, Donatello was extremely proud of himself. However, he knew that you couldn't always rely on technology. Besides, the guards would soon recover and come after them.

Next to him, Raphael was sulking. He could appreciate art too, what was Donnie implying? Of course, he would have preferred to beat Sir Hubert to a pulp, but the madman was nowhere in sight. How he would enjoy getting back at the man who had hurt his father and one of his brothers, and dared to threaten them! The collector was going to learn that you didn't mess with Raphael's family without the direst consequences.

Lost in his thoughts, Raphael didn't immediately realize that his brothers had stopped dead in their tracks. He raised his head and saw that Sir Hubert was grinning at them from the other end of the hallway.

"Still there, turtles? I must say I'm impressed. Not everyone can avoid my traps. And you're not even injured, unlike that filthy rat of yours!"

Raphael saw red and clenched his fists. Leonardo noticed it and quickly put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Wait, Raph! It's a trap, obviously!"

But Raphael would have none of it. He dismissed his brother's hand and ran at the collector, whose grin grew larger.

"You worry too much, Leo," Raphael retorted. "He's alone, and he's mine!"

"I've already disabled the traps in this section," Donatello whispered quickly. "At least I think so."

Leonardo nodded and ran after his brother. It was still a trap, the blue-clad leader was certain of it.

 _Raph, why do you never listen to me?_

Raphael threw himself at the collector, and his triumphant expression became a bemused one when he went right through the human. He would have fallen in the deep hole full of pikes right behind if Leonardo hadn't caught hold of him.

"Uh," Raphael expressed.

"I told you it was a trap!" Leonardo exclaimed.

Raphael shrugged him off with a guilty expression.

"And now a well? With pikes? What is this place, a New York house or an Egyptian pyramid?" he grumbled to hide his embarrassment.

"It wasn't the true Sir Hubert, only his hologram!" Donatello exclaimed. "And a very convincing one. Guys, I think we're getting closer."

The purple-clad turtle hurried to the place where the hologram had stood, searching the walls.

"Yes! Now wait…"

Donatello tinkered with his horn for a few seconds.

"Almost… Almost… Argh, no!"

"Donnie, what's the matter?" Leonardo asked through gritted teeth.

He was trying hard to mask his disappointment. Once again, he had failed to inspire enough respect to be listened to in his brother, and once again it had almost ended up in disaster.

 _What a leader._

Donatello turned to his blue-clad brother.

"The hologram was mimicking Sir Hubert's moves. It was linked to the main system, and I almost managed to hack it!"

* * *

Comfortably seated in his study, the fat collector wiped the sweat from his wide forehead. It had been a close one. The purple one had almost managed to break through his defenses.

Sir Hubert had been watching the turtles' progression with interest, and from afar. Of course, he regretted that his cameras stopped working when the turtles came close to them, but he had still gathered enough information. Now they were getting too close to his den. It was time to make his choice.

The red turtle was powerfully built, but too easily manipulated. It wouldn't be fun in the long run.

On the contrary, the purple one seemed to be a genius of some sort. He was too dangerous to be kept alive. Not to mention that he was a little too skinny for the collector's taste.

It left the blue one. He acted like a leader of some sort. Playing with him would certainly be fun. Granted, Sir Hubert had always hated authority, no matter which form it took - except when he personified it, of course – but he doubted that the turtle would remain authoritarian when he would be the last one of his kind.

Yes, he would keep this one as a pet.

He hoped he wouldn't lose him like he had lost his first pet turtle, though. The poor thing. How had it happened, already? Ah yes. He had played too hard with it.

Grinning, the collector called his second-in-command.

"I've made my choice," he said happily. "Spare the blue one. Kill the others."


	13. Predators and Preys

**Predators and Preys**

* * *

The three turtles had started progressing again. Donatello was beginning to get excited at the prospect of playing soon with a madman's control room. This was something he was gifted for: providing ready to use hacks without even blinking.

As he went on disabling traps with renewed care – the trap that had almost costed Raphael his life must have been independent from the others, and it might not be the only one – Donatello kept an eye out for potential other holograms. He had been so close to succeed in inserting his own program into the main system. His attempt had been artfully blocked. Whoever was in charge of computer security knew his job well.

 _But I'm still better. Just wait and see._

Next to him, Raphael and Leonardo were still checking the rooms in the hope of finding suitable weapons. After the paintings and sculptures, they had admired pottery – Raphael had suggested keeping a few amphorae for throwing purposes, which Leonardo had declined before Donatello had the chance to teach them a course in Greek and Roman art – and tapestries. As much as Leonardo was convinced that the collector also owned ancient weapons, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps they were kept on another part of the house.

That's why he was relieved when Raphael suddenly called him in a delighted tone.

"Leo! You have to see this!"

The blue-clad turtle rushed to his brother's side and watched the wide room filled with swords, halberds, knives, pikes and every other kind of medieval weapon.

"This is paradise," Raphael beamed, immediately beginning to pick up short-range weapons. "And look! There is even a Japanese section!"

It was true. In one corner of the room, weapons of medieval Japan were displayed. Leonardo couldn't help admiring the spectacular collection with the eye of an experienced and passionate swordsman.

An empty display unit attracted his attention. It was placed in the center of the Japanese section. Leonardo moved to it in order to read the notice, and froze in disbelief.

The text said ' _This sword belonged to Miyamoto Musashi, the greatest swordsman in Japan.'_ and went along with a picture.

Leonardo knew it.

It was the sword Karai had invited him to steal, that night when Raphael had tried his hand at leadership and decided that it wasn't for him. Leonardo remembered precisely his discussion with Karai. Of course, he had refused to get involved in such a theft, and they had argued.

The puzzle pieces put themselves in place in his mind.

 _Karai must have come back for the sword, and who know what else,_ he thought. _Maybe she came with Foot soldiers. That would explain why Sir Hubert was expecting thieves when Mikey fell in his chimney that first time._

Donatello had noticed his frozen state and was approaching, a big halberd in his hands.

"Leo? Is something the matter?"

"Karai," he answered softly. "I think she has been there before."

Raphael came closer to them and read the notice.

"You think she stole the sword? That girl means trouble, I've always said it."

Then he frowned.

"Wait a minute. Is it because of her that Sir Hubert trapped his chimney?"

Raphael's eyes were shining dangerously.

"Maybe," Leonardo admitted reluctantly. Was it his fault, too? If he had been more convincing on that fateful night, Karai might have changed her mind, and none of this would have happened.

Raphael wasn't done.

"And is it what you were up to, the night when I first met her?"

"No!" Leonardo protested. "I mean, yes, she tried to convince me, but of course I refused!"

Raphael was watching him with mixed feelings, torn between his instinctive mistrust of the girl and her bad influence on his brother, and the deep certainty that his honor-driven leader would never fall so low. Leonardo met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Remind me to properly thank her next time we meet," Donatello growled. "Your ex-girlfriend attracted us an impressive lot of trouble."

Leonardo turned to face his purple-clad brother, protesting.

"She never was my girlfriend!"

"Yeah, if you say so," Donatello answered with a superior smile. Considering how many times his brothers had made fun of his relation with April, he considered that he had the right to rub it in Leonardo's face. Then he remembered that April could be considered as an ex-friend now, and his face fell.

"Never mind," he added sadly. "Anyway. Did you guys choose a weapon?"

"Yes," Raphael said with great satisfaction, swirling the sai he had found nearby. "Do not change a winning team."

Leonardo shook his head to snatch his mind away from his dark thoughts.

"Not yet," he answered.

Turning, he grabbed a sword at random and added a set of sharp knives.

"I'll use this."

Knowing that he had sharp blades at his disposal made him feel a lot better. The blue-clad turtle took a deep breath.

"Okay, now we…"

He suddenly stopped talking. He had been about to say that they would continue searching for the control room, but he had heard something. It was almost inaudible, and might only be a product of his imagination, but still…

Making his decision, Leonardo went on.

"We use this room. Donnie, are there any cameras in there?"

"Yes, but they're not functioning right now," Donatello answered with smugness.

"Are you sure, Donnie?" Raphael teased him. "I remember a certain trap that wasn't disabled…"

"Yes, I am! And I can't be held responsible if you madly run into traps… Have you ever considered thinking before acting?"

"Guys," Leonardo rolled his eyes. "Enough. If Donnie says it, I trust him. Now let's use what we have here. It's our turn to trap them."

* * *

Sir Hubert's second-in-command motioned for his elite men to approach the room where he knew the three turtles hid. Now that his boss had given them clear orders, he could put an end to this ridiculous situation. Then he would focus on more important matters, like finding a special gift for his wife. Tomorrow would be their fifteenth wedding anniversary.

The experienced human had seen a lot of very strange things since he had been recruited by the collector, all these years ago. Mutant humanoid turtles weren't the strangest, even if they did hit the top ten.

He didn't like that the turtles had chosen the weapons room. From what he had seen on the pictures taken the day before, two of them had been carrying dangerous weapons. The orange one – the one who wasn't there – had had nunchucks, these strange Japanese weapons, and the red one had been carrying twin big forks whose name eluded him. The purple one had had a staff. He looked less dangerous in a fight, but the second-in-command had learned the hard way not to underestimate his opponents. The blue one – the one he had to capture alive – was an unknown.

No, he wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks. His men would knock the door down and send a flash grenade inside. With the turtles confused, it would be easy to shoot them with darts. He would dispose of the red one and the purple one immediately, without damaging the skin, of course – he knew his boss wanted to stuff them. He would tie up the blue one.

Yes, it sounded like a good plan.

The second-in-command smiled and gave the signal. The assault could begin.

Two men ran to the door to knock it down while a third was ready to throw the flash grenade.

However, the door didn't resist like it was supposed to, and immediately gave way to a shower of sharp knives and pikes, which silhouetted the man who still had the flash grenade in his hand.

"Shield your eyes, guys," someone shouted at the same time another knife sang in the air, and the flash grenade exploded in the hallway. The second-in-command had the reflex to turn away, but most of his men didn't.

Clenching his fists, he took his gun. So much for not damaging the turtles' skin. Motioning for those of his men who were still standing to follow him, he entered the room.

* * *

Raphael was having a great time. In the few minutes they had had to prepare the room, he had personally designed a few vicious traps that were right now displaying their full potential.

The red-clad turtle gave another spin to the guard hanging by his feet inches above a nice collection of pikes. This was his masterpiece. The only thing he regretted was the sacrifice of his beloved scarf.

"Master Splinter must have been mistaken," he remarked. "Revenge is so sweet."

"Stay focused, Raph," Leonardo reminded him.

The blue-clad turtle took something in the pocket of the second-in-command, who was pinned to the wall like an ugly butterfly, with Leonardo's borrowed sword stroking his throat.

"Donnie," he called. "Can you work your magic on this phone?"

"It's not magic, Leo! It's science! Sci-ence!" Donatello replied, half-exasperated and half-resigned. "But… yeah, probably. Give it to me."

Leonardo gave him the phone, and Donatello began tinkering with it.

"Nice, Leo," he whistled. "I think I can use that. That guy must have an important role here…Hmm…Finally! I'm in! And there is the plan of the house… Wow… Do you want to see it?"

"Sure, Donnie," Leonardo said, before addressing the man he had at his mercy. "And now that we don't need you anymore…"

The second-in-command opened his eyes wide. He was going to die, he knew it. He would never celebrate his fifteenth wedding anniversary after all. He should have listened to his father and become a dressmaker.

"Have mercy," he whispered. "I have a wife… Children… A mother-in-law… A dog… Goldfishes…"

"They all say that," Raphael answered seriously from the other side of the room. "Doesn't save them, though. You see, we are heartless monsters."

Raphael gave another happy spin to his guard.

"Raph," Leonardo said reproachfully. "I won't kill you," he went on, talking again to the terrified second-in-command, "but I want to make sure that you won't stand in our way."

Then he knocked him out with the handle of his sword, using only the necessary strength.

"Leo, you're spoiling my fun." Raphael sighed. "It won't hurt them to be afraid. Do they care that _we_ are only fifteen?"

"They can't guess that," Donatello interjected. "And they're only henchmen anyway."

"Then let's find the one man responsible for this whole mess." Leonardo sighed. "And get out of there before the guests, or the guards, or anyone else in this mad house, begin waking up."

His brothers both nodded.

* * *

The collector frowned. His second-in-command should have reported to him minutes ago. Had something gone wrong?

He quickly checked his cameras, and clenched his fists at seeing that they were now all disabled.

"No no no no no! It can't be!" He stamped, his jawls quivering. "I am the great Sir Hubert! Nobody can play me!"

But he had to acknowledge the truth. Somehow, the turtles had managed to get access to his information system, and controlled it.

The door of his luxurious study slid slowly, and Sir Hubert pointed a gun at the opening.

Before he had time to realize what was happening, though, his gun was sliced in two and the sharp end of a sword was pointing at his throat, while the just as sharp ends of two sai were tickling his ribs.

 _They are fast,_ Sir Hubert thought, watching the three turtles he hadn't seen enter. Oh, how he still wanted to possess one of them.

"Hello, Sir Hubert," the red turtle smiled evilly. "I think we were never properly introduced. How rude. Let's fix that mistake. I'm a hotheaded turtle whose name you're unworthy to learn, and I'm in a very bad mood right now."

"Enough," the blue one answered in a seemingly resigned tone.

"You shouldn't threaten me," Sir Hubert told them unctuously. "One move and I'm pushing this little button, which will send pictures of you all over the Internet."

"If you do that," the purple one answered calmly, "the police of each country you ever resided in will receive an exhaustive description of your activities, both legal and illegal."

Sir Hubert froze. Had the turtle really hacked his most confidential files?

"Besides," the insufferable genius went on, "I already deleted our pictures and their copies. And believe me, I have been very thorough. But as you're never too cautious…"

Sir Hubert slowly moved his hand away from the emergency button and watched the purple turtle walk to his desk and lean towards his computer. He noticed that the turtle's tongue was slightly sticking out of his mouth.

 _Disgusting_ , the collector thought.

"Yes," the turtle finally said. "Everything is settled. Leo, we can go."

"Finally," the blue one sighed. "Then…"

"I'm doing it this time, Leo!" the red one happily said, and suddenly Sir Hubert's world went dark.

"Raph!" Leonardo protested.

"What? That's what you wanted to do, right?" Raphael answered innocently. "Knock him out so he won't stand in our way."

"You didn't need to be so violent! That crack didn't sound very good!"

"Relax, Leo, I didn't kill him. And if he has a headache when he wakes up, well, I won't pity him."

"That crack was the sign of a head injury," Donatello noticed, not too worried. "Maybe we should call an ambulance."

"Do it. With the study's phone," Leonardo ordered.

"You're two worry-warts." Raphael sighed while Donatello complied. "He will be fine, sadly."

Leonardo looked daggers at him and the red-clad turtle grinned.

* * *

It was drizzling when the turtles came out. Leonardo had insisted that they left the borrowed weapons at Sir Hubert's house, and Raphael had been secretly relieved that his brother's morality was still intact. Donatello had kept the second-in-command's phone as an insurance policy.

The three turtles were anxious to come back to their home and check on their father and brother. They ran through the sewers in silence, and were only reassured when they heard Michelangelo's and Splinter's voices.

Donatello jumped the turnstiles first, eager to check up his father. Raphael was about to do the same when he noticed that Leonardo had stopped. He turned to him, an eye ridge raised.

Leonardo's thoughts were racing wildly. Now that he knew that his whole family was fine and the stress of the mission was receding, his self-doubts and insecurities were coming back at him tenfold. He kept thinking about everything that almost went wrong, how Raphael didn't listen to him and almost got killed, how Karai had probably started it all and he, Leonardo, had been the one to trust her in the first place, and he suddenly couldn't bear the thought of reporting to his father right now. He desperately needed some alone time to order his thoughts. Just a few minutes.

"Raph, I'm going for a walk. I need to think. Alone."

"Now?" Raphael frowned. "But…"

"I'll be right back. Go ahead, and reassure Mikey and Sensei."

Raphael watched his brother with concern. He didn't like this at all, but he didn't want to confront Leonardo right now. Not so soon after he disobeyed his orders and almost died stabbed by sharp pikes. So he didn't try to stop or follow the blue-clad turtle when he turned around and retraced his steps, soon disappearing from his brother's sight.

Frowning, Raphael jumped the turnstiles to join the rest of his family.


	14. Loneliness

**Loneliness**

* * *

"Why would you let him leave all alone?" Michelangelo exclaimed, his expression unusually serious. "Don't get me wrong, it's really cool that you guys brought it off, but… Why. Did. You. Let. Leo. Leave?

"Don't look at me like that," Raphael protested. "He said he would be right back. He needs to think, apparently."

"Maybe that's what he _wants_ , but there is no way that's what he _needs_ ," Michelangelo insisted. "He needs us! Didn't you notice how down he was?"

Raphael shrugged, uneasy.

"Yeah, but… he seemed better, right? I mean, he accepted to be leader again."

"We didn't really leave him a choice," Donatello remarked. "And he wasn't exactly ecstatic. Remember how he said it would be the last time?"

The purple-clad turtle put away the tools he had used to check Splinter's vital signs.

"You'll be fine, Father," he told Splinter. "You just need to rest."

Splinter shook his head.

"I will rest easier after talking to your brother, Donatello," the ninja master answered. "Michelangelo is right. This is concerning."

Raphael crossed his arms.

"Fine. Then when he comes back, we have a little chat. And we settle this once and for all."

Michelangelo and Donatello exchanged a glance.

"Good idea, but maybe you should let someone else do the talking, Raph," Donatello suggested cautiously.

"Yeah," Michelangelo rubbed it in. "Someone who won't make matters worse by losing his patience after one minute or so."

"What are you two implying?" Raphael answered threateningly.

"Nothing, it's just a suggestion," Donatello backed away.

"Nothing you don't already know, brother mine," Michelangelo added, tilting his head with a sideways smile.

Splinter cut their bickering short.

"Raphael, can you please fetch your brother? If he told you that he would be right back, he can't be far."

The ninja master had a bad feeling about this. It wasn't a good sign that his son had decided not to come home immediately. Was he running away from something?

"Of course, Sensei," Raphael answered, complying immediately.

His family's worry was feeding his own. Had he messed up in letting Leonardo go?

Raphael ran to the sewer tunnels near their home, but he didn't see his blue-clad brother. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he came back to the lair.

"He's nowhere in sight," he panted.

"Call him, then," Splinter insisted.

Donatello watched his father in dismay.

"We can't, Sensei. We didn't bring our T-phones with us this time. They're too obvious, Sir Hubert's guards would probably have seized them at the entrance."

Splinter clenched his fists. What had probably seemed like a reasonable decision at the time was now preventing them from contacting or tracking Leonardo.

He hoped that his blue-clad son hadn't gone much further than the area Raphael had just checked. Wandering alone without any communication means was clearly reckless. Leonardo in his right mind would never have done it.

"Then go after him," he said in a controlled voice. "And this time, take your phones."

Seeing his orange-clad son beginning to hobble determinedly on his crutches, he amended his words.

"Except for you, Michelangelo."

"But Father!" Michelangelo pleaded, tears in his eyes, while his two brothers left the lair in a hurry.

"Do not be upset, my son," Splinter told him gently with a certainty he was far from feeling. "Your brother will be home soon, and then he can explain himself to us."

 _And us to him_ , he added in his head.

* * *

Leonardo hadn't meant to draw away from the lair, he really hadn't. He had just taken a step, then another step, and all this time he had been deeply lost in unpleasant thoughts.

 _You're lame. You're so lame. Raph was right to call you Lame-O-Nardo. He could have died today because you didn't earn his respect._

But he had been there in time to prevent his brother from falling. It had to count for something, right?

 _You're unreliable. You couldn't dissuade Karai from stealing that sword. You didn't tell Mikey to stop playing chimney-sliding. It's your fault he fell. It's your fault he got hurt._

Leonardo clenched his fists, absent-mindedly wandering further and further away from the lair. He wasn't even conscious that he was running by now.

 _You didn't help Donnie like you should have when he was leading. It's your fault Sensei had to come to your rescue. It's your fault he got hurt, too. Remember his blood on your fingers?_

The thought was making him sick. He had only wanted to help the best he could. He had only wanted to make Donatello feel trusted. He didn't want to second-guess his brother like Raphael, Michelangelo and Donatello second-guessed him…

 _They second-guess you because you're unworthy of leading. They're laughing at you constantly, calling you names. They don't respect you._

But his brothers had wanted him to lead this time.

 _The exception, not the rule._

They had made it out alive. They had prevented Sir Hubert's from revealing their existence to the entire world.

 _Donnie's doing, not yours._

He had been there, too. Keeping them focused and leading them through. Coordinating their team work.

 _Sheer, dumb luck if it worked this time. What will happen next time? They will keep second-guessing you, they will continue not to listen to your orders. What if it kills them?_

No. This couldn't happen. This could never happen, he wouldn't allow it, no…

 _It's only a matter of time._

Leonardo felt a warm dampness on his cheeks and wiped it with his hand. He realized that he was under a manhole cover. He needed to breathe some fresh air, the sewer atmosphere wasn't doing him any good, it didn't help fighting the depressing thoughts that kept coming back at him, again and again and again…

He left the sewers and swiftly made for the nearest rooftop. It was raining heavier now, and the water drops on his skin felt so good, so refreshing…

* * *

Donatello and Raphael were running in the sewers.

"He's not there either," Donatello said anxiously. "Do you think he went to the surface?"

"I don't know!" Raphael shouted, angrier at himself than he was at Donatello. "Why don't you tell me, genius?"

He saw his purple-clad brother wince, and immediately regretted his words.

"Sorry, Donnie, I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay, Raph," Donatello sighed. "I'm worried too. I should have expected this. I knew Leo wasn't feeling so well, and the stress of our mission must have made it worse. We practically forced him to lead us, and though he managed it admirably, it was probably too soon…"

"We didn't really have a choice," Raphael gritted.

"I know," Donatello retorted, shaking his head. "But it really came at a bad time."

Raphael turned away and watched the wall, considering kicking it with all his might. But he knew it would only hurt him, and the wall didn't care anyway.

"Let's go to the surface, then," the red-clad turtle growled.

"But where?" Donatello answered. "New York is a huge city, in case you didn't notice."

"Let's begin with Leo's favorite places," Raphael retorted. "If he's feeling down, maybe he tried to take refuge somewhere familiar."

As he said these words, Raphael couldn't help feeling betrayed that his blue-clad brother hadn't considered his own family as safe enough to go to them instead of running away.

One hour later, Donatello and Raphael had had no luck in finding their brother. The rain was heavier now, and they took shelter under an overhang.

Raphael was sending another falsely reassuring text to a now clearly panicking Michelangelo.

 _Leo, why are you doing that to us?_ he wondered angrily.

"It's hopeless!" Donatello shouted, throwing up his hands. "He's faster and stealthier than us, how are we supposed to find him if he doesn't want us to?"

"Find who, I wonder?" another voice asked nearby, and both Donatello and Raphael turned over to see Karai, arms crossed and casually leaning on a chimney.

Donatello clenched his fists.

"Oh, you. _You_. I will…"

Karai opened her eyes wide, surprised at the supposedly level-headed purple-clad turtle's reaction.

"You will what, Donatello?"

Then she seemed to notice that there were only two turtles in front of her, and frowned.

"And where is Michelangelo? And," she added as if it was an afterthought, "Leonardo? I have unfinished business to attend to with this traitor."

Raphael glanced at Donatello, then at the girl wearing Foot gear next to them. As much as he wanted to give her a piece of his mind for her stealing habit, now wasn't the time. Leonardo was their priority, and from Karai's remark, she had no idea where he was right now. So she didn't interest Raphael.

The red-clad turtle grabbed his brother's arm and glared at the girl.

"Go back to your daddy, princess," he gritted. "We're not here for you."

Throwing a smoke bomb, he disappeared with Donatello, leaving behind a baffled Karai.

* * *

Leonardo didn't know how long he had been running across the rooftops. He tried to check the hour on his T-phone and realized with a pang of guilt that he didn't have it. His brothers must be worried by now. He had told Raphael that he would be right back.

Yet another proof that he was unreliable…

He would go home soon. Soon…

Another jump, another rooftop, the rain sliding on his skin… It felt good, refreshing, cleansing.

 _If you go back, it will start over. The teasing, the laughs, the second-guessing._

But they were his brothers. They needed him.

 _You need them, not the other way around._

No. No, it wasn't right. Leonardo knew that it wasn't right. Somewhere in a corner of his mind, he knew that these thoughts weren't as true as they appeared to be. He suddenly wanted to be with his family, tell them how much he loved them, and how sorry he was if he wasn't enough…

Although he was doing his best… Why couldn't it be enough? Being the leader was so tiring at times… So tiring…

 _Go back to them,_ another voice urged him in his mind. _Now!_

Leonardo was running blindly by now. And why was it suddenly so hot? It was supposed to be raining. And he was on a fire escape, not on the rooftops.

 _I'm losing it,_ Leonardo realized in a moment of clarity.

But he couldn't take any of it anymore, and he was so tired, and his vision was blurred, and the rain tasted salty… Why had he thought that it would be a good idea to run for hours in that weather, already?

Family… He needed to go back to his family…

Leonardo coughed.

"Leo?"

He liked this voice. It belonged to somebody kind. He tried to focus, but all he could see was a red blur.

"I told you I never wanted to see you again!"

Why was the nice voice saying nasty things like that? It hurt. Leonardo whined, turning away from it. He missed a step and bumped against something, letting out a small cry of pain.

"Leo?"

The voice was quieter now, almost…concerned.

"What are you doing here? Where are your brothers?"

Yes, the voice was definitely concerned.

 _Safe_ , he wanted to answer. _Home. Don't worry._ But he couldn't utter the words. Why was his throat suddenly so swollen? He tried again.

"They…okay…" he slurred. Speaking hurt.

"Leo, I swear… You… Arrrrrgh!"

 _Don't get mad_ , he thought sadly, _I'm trying._

"Stay here."

Leonardo felt a hand on his arm, and he tried to wave it away. But he had all the strength of a kitten right now. He was suddenly pushed down and landed on the ground.

"I said, stay here! Oh my gosh, you're burning up. I'm calling Donnie."

 _No need to, I was coming home anyway_ , Leonardo tried to say. _I'm fine. Just a little tired._ Maybe if he rested for a while, he would get better. That ground was comfortable, tempting. And he felt safe with the nice voice.

Leonardo lay down.

 _I need some sleep. Just for a minute._

"Leo? No, don't fall asleep, you'll… Donnie? I'm with Leo, he's completely out of it. You need to come right now!"

Leonardo slowly drifted into unconsciousness.


	15. Struggling

**Struggling**

* * *

Michelangelo carefully slid under Leonardo's IV line to nestle against his unconscious brother.

He had watched, helpless, as Donatello and Raphael ran home with him and _April_ , of all people – and although Michelangelo was glad to see the red-haired girl in the lair again, it wasn't enough to quell his anxiety and fear for Leonardo, who looked whiter than green and was shivering uncontrollably.

It was obvious that his brother was sick. You didn't need to be a genius to tell that. You needed to be one, however, to run blood analysis deep inside the sewers, with a hand-crafted device built from garbage pieces.

"His immune system was already depleted," Donatello had muttered. "That run in the rain was only the last straw."

"Depleted?" Raphael had said, as if it was a swear word. "Why?"

"I don't know," Donatello had answered. "It could be from stress, or something else entirely. Anyway, I can't do anything else. All we can do is wait for him to wake up."

Raphael had cursed and turned away, arms crossed. Master Splinter had stroked Leonardo's forehead with a sad expression on his face, and April had looked at them all, trying to understand the implicit.

"I'll watch over your brother," Splinter had said. "You should take some rest. It has been a long night."

Donatello and Raphael, both exhausted, had reluctantly nodded, but Michelangelo had shaken his head.

"I'm staying with Leo," he had said, his determination so obvious that nobody had dared to contradict him.

Maybe his family knew that he was feeling sidelined. He should have come with his brothers, fought with them, cheered them up – maybe then Leonardo wouldn't have felt so down that he literally ran away.

Stupid ankle.

Michelangelo leaned on his elbow to better watch his brother's face. Leonardo's expression was far from being peaceful, but at least the shivering had stopped.

"Hey Leo," he whispered. "If you needed so badly to cool down, you should have come to me. I always keep a few water balloons at hand, and I would have been happy to help."

He got no answer, of course, and sighed sadly.

"Wake up soon, brother mine," he added as encouragingly as he could. "Please?"

* * *

April was having mixed feelings about being in the lair again. She had meant it when she had said that she never wanted to see the boys again – at the time. And she was still holding them responsible for her father's mutation.

But when Leonardo had all but crashed down at her window, looking sick and forlorn and unable to string two words together, worry had quickly replaced anger in her heart.

No matter how much she had tried to convince herself of the opposite, the four turtles were still dear to her. She just couldn't turn her back on Leonardo.

She glanced at Donatello, how was blushing at her with that particular expression of his that was half-annoying and half-cute.

"Thanks again, April," the purple-clad turtle told her. "I don't know what would have happened to him if you hadn't been there."

"Don't mention it," she said reluctantly. "I have to go back now. Let… let me know how Leo is doing, okay?"

"Sure," Donatello nodded. "It… it was good to see you again."

Then he turned away and left hurriedly, as if he was afraid that another word would break the fragile peace between them, and April felt a pang of guilt.

"We've missed you," Raphael told her softly, from the shadows where he had been watching the scene.

There wasn't any reproach in the hothead's tone, though, and April smiled hesitantly at him before taking her leave.

* * *

Splinter was watching his two sons, moved. Michelangelo had fallen asleep next to Leonardo and was hugging his brother's arm as if he was a giant teddy bear.

The ninja master pulled the blankets to better cover him and reported his attention on Leonardo. He couldn't believe that the situation had come to this that quickly. He knew that body and mind were linked, and for Leonardo to fall ill that easily, he must have been struggling with the recent events harder than Splinter had believed.

At that stage, the ninja master wasn't even mad at his son for his foolishness. He only wanted him to wake up, so he could properly tell him how much he was loved.

"I'm sorry, my son," he whispered tenderly. "Even if I sensed your distress, I had no idea it was so deep."

Splinter stroked Leonardo's cheek.

"I know you're still struggling, my son. Please remember that you are not alone in this."

* * *

One day passed, then another, then another, and Leonardo still hadn't woken up.

"I don't understand," Donatello said irritated one evening. "His body temperature is back to normal, the fewer is down, and he's not in a coma. So why doesn't he just wake up?"

"Do you think he doesn't want to?" Michelangelo asked in a horrified tone.

Raphael put an arm around his orange-clad brother's shoulders.

"Of course not, Mikey. There must be another reason. What do you think, Sensei?" he asked, turning to his father.

"Healing takes time, my sons," Splinter offered. "And I believe that your brother has more than one kind of healing to do."

His sons weren't satisfied with that answer, but Splinter didn't elaborate.

That night, April came to visit them again. She had brought pizza and ice cream, and if it wasn't a peace offering, Michelangelo didn't know what it was. So the three turtles and the red-haired girl sat on the couch, watching the news, while Splinter stayed with Leonardo.

After a while, April asked the question that had been bothering her for days.

"So what's the matter with Leo? Any idea why he ran away like that? It's not like him."

Donatello shrugged.

"I don't know. He… he was kind of having a difficult time."

"Yeah," Michelangelo added. "He was feeling down. He didn't want to be leader anymore."

April looked at them in surprise.

"What? But why?"

Raphael looked away, not meeting April's gaze. The girl frowned.

"Guys?"

Now Michelangelo had stopped eating his ice cream, and Donatello was tapping his fingers against his leg. April crossed her arms.

"Guys…"

She watched each of them in turn, wondering which one would tell her the truth first. Deciding that Michelangelo was the best target, she came closer to him and glared at him. The poor orange-clad turtle whined.

"Okay, okay! Well… maybe we hadn't been too cooperating lately."

April tilted her head.

"Explain 'not too cooperating'."

And so Michelangelo did, with the reluctant help of Donatello and Raphael. When they had finished their tale, April watched them with wide eyes.

"Why would you do that to Leo?"

The three turtles looked at each other sheepishly.

"It was a joke," Raphael finally muttered. "I know it's not an excuse, but…"

April cut him off.

"You're right, it's not an excuse."

She stood up and began pacing, waving her arms in anger.

"He said to me once that he was tired to be the responsible one. That he never got to have fun. It was _months ago_ , guys. Months ago! Have you been giving him a hard time for that long?"

"No!" Donatello protested. "At least, I don't think so. It's just… Splinter asked him to train us, and he was pushing it a little too far. We wanted him to remember that no matter his new responsibilities, he remained our brother first, you see?"

April looked at him and sighed.

"I see. Although the Lame-O-Nardo part was really… well, _lame_."

She looked daggers at Raphael, who threw up his arms.

"I know! I know! For the umpteenth time, I'm sorry!"

April sighed again and sat down.

"Well, the four of you have a lot to sort out, that's for sure."

"We need Leo to wake up for that," Michelangelo replied despondently, and April couldn't help putting her arm around his shoulders.

* * *

Michelangelo was dreaming again. In his dream, he stood on a paved road that glowed slightly orange. The landscape around him was hidden behind a grey mist. Michelangelo didn't know where he was, but he had a feeling that it wasn't an ordinary dream – to begin with, he knew he was asleep; plus his dreams usually had a lot more colors – so he began walking.

It was a boring journey, to be honest, but Michelangelo knew it was important. Somewhere, concealed behind the mist, was something essential. _Someone_ essential.

 _Leo. This has a link to Leo._

As soon as the thought occurred to him, he found himself in front of a small temple. The road led right to its entrance. Michelangelo came closer. Despite the mist, he could discern a familiar shape in the center.

There, in front of him, was the sitting form of a meditating Leonardo.

Michelangelo's metaphorical heart skipped a beat.

"Leo? Leo!"

Leonardo's shape made no move, no sign to indicate that he had heard his brother.

The orange-clad turtle began running to him, but as soon as he had set one foot on the temple's ground, the road under him began wavering, the orange light becoming dimmer.

As a sense of danger overwhelmed him, Michelangelo understood that he couldn't leave the road.

Shaking his head in frustration, he observed the temple. It was squared, a few meters wide, with a bowl in each corner. Each bowl sheltered a small flame. One blue, one red, one purple and the last one orange.

 _Ha!_ Michelangelo thought. _Even I can say that this choice of colors is anything but a coincidence._

Turning to the orange flame, Michelangelo wished it to be stronger, but nothing happened. Obviously, it didn't work that way. The orange-clad turtle watched his brother's meditating shape in silence, thinking.

 _Okay. I can't leave this road, so I can't go to him. But maybe someone else could._

With renewed hope, he turned around and retraced his steps.

 _Wait for me, Leo,_ he thought. _I'll be back soon._

* * *

Michelangelo woke up and abruptly straightened up, panicking when something held him down, before remembering that it was Leonardo's IV line.

Raphael, who was sitting on a chair near Leonardo's bed and kept a quiet and moody watch, immediately leaned forward.

"Be careful, Mikey," the red-clad turtle hissed, setting the IV line back in its proper place. "If you keep moving like that, I'll kick you out."

Michelangelo watched his brother, breathless.

"Raph! I've found Leo!"

Raphael blinked.

"What do you mean, you've found Leo? He's right there."

Raphael pointed at Leonardo's body while watching Michelangelo with exasperation.

"No." Michelangelo shook his head. "I found his mind!"

Raphael looked at him in incredulity, then took his head in his hands.

"Mikey," he muttered, "I know that's difficult to grasp, but you can't find Leo's mind. Minds aren't things you can find. Do you understand?"

Now it was Michelangelo's turn to feel exasperated. Why did his brothers never take him seriously?

"I can show you," he answered defiantly. "Come with me. Maybe you'll be able to leave the road."

Raphael blinked.

"Come with you where? And which road?"

As Michelangelo extended his hand to him, Raphael took it, more as a reflex than because he was convinced.

Nothing happened.

Michelangelo frowned, while Raphael sighed tiredly.

"Mikey…"

"I don't understand," Michelangelo whispered. "Maybe we have to be asleep. Yes! That's it! We have to be asleep! Go to sleep, Raph," he ordered his bemused brother.

"Mikey!"

Raphael was getting annoyed. However, he didn't feel like shouting at his obviously distressed orange-clad brother in the middle of the night. Especially not with Leonardo's sleeping body next to him.

 _Although it might wake him up_ , Raphael mused. _Hmm… It's almost worth a try_.

In the end, Michelangelo's puppy dog eyes won him over. With a sigh, he left his chair and lay down at Leonardo's feet, allowing Michelangelo to keep hold of his hand.

"And now?"

"We sleep," Michelangelo answered.

"This is pointless," Raphael retorted.

But he was tired, Leonardo's bed was comfy despite his awkward position, and Michelangelo's touch was comforting.

Despite himself, Raphael slowly drifted into sleep.


	16. Red Flame

**Red Flame**

* * *

Raphael's dream was one of the strangest he had ever had. First, he was standing in the middle of nowhere, in a grey atmosphere that was clearly depressing. Second, his brother Michelangelo was with him. Third, and that was the weirdest part, said brother was excitedly continuing a conversation they had started when Raphael was perfectly awake.

"See? See? I told you we had to be asleep! Now come with me!"

"What the…" Raphael answered eloquently, nonetheless allowing Michelangelo to pull him forward.

They walked on a strange orange-glowing road, Raphael trying to process what was happening and Michelangelo blabbering.

"Leo should be right there… Or there… Or there… Wait for it… Wait for it…"

Raphael finally interrupted him.

"Mikey, what's this place?"

His brother shrugged.

"I don't know. But Leo is here somewhere, and that's what matters."

"Leo…" Raphael whispered.

He wasn't sure he wanted to believe that his brother's mind was wandering in this mist. It was a creepy thought.

"Still not here…or here… nor here…" Michelangelo was saying again. "That's strange, last time I found it sooner…"

"Found what?" Raphael asked reluctantly.

"Leo's temple!" Michelangelo exclaimed.

"And now, a temple." Raphael sighed. "Mikey, I admit that this dream is strange, but it's only my mind playing tricks on me. Can you leave me now, so I can have a nice wrestling dream instead?"

Stopping, the orange-clad turtle crossed his arms and faced Raphael with a suspicious frown.

"You still don't believe in it."

"Nope, I don't," Raphael answered casually.

"That's why it doesn't work! You have to believe in it!"

"Believe in what? There is nothing there. Except you, the mist, this never-ending road and me. No Leo."

Michelangelo sighed.

"Raph, make an effort. Don't you want to have Leo back?"

"Of course I want to!" Raphael protested angrily. "You have no idea how much I want him to…"

His voice suddenly caught in his throat, because there was no way words could express his feelings.

He wanted Leonardo to wake up and tell him that everything was forgiven – and this time, he wanted his brother to mean it.

He wanted to have his brother back, with Leonardo laughing with him at stupid jokes, talking to him when he was hurt instead of bottling everything up, and fighting with him not for real just because that was what brothers like them did.

And if believing that a stupid grey mist and a stupid orange road in a stupid weird dream had a supernatural power could help, then Raphael would take the chance, no matter how crazy it seemed.

 _Leo_ , the red-clad turtle thought desperately. _Please be here_.

"Yes!" Michelangelo exclaimed, as if he had heard Raphael's thoughts, and suddenly the road was ending and there was a construction in front of them.

"Here," Michelangelo said. "I can't go any further. Be nice to him, okay?"

And before Raphael could fully register what was in front of him, he was pushed forward and landed on a stone floor.

Right in front of a meditating Leonardo.

"Leo?" Raphael said hesitantly, not believing his eyes.

As his brother didn't answer, Raphael frowned, leaning forward to touch his brother's shoulder.

"Hey, Leo, I'm talking to y…"

But as soon as his fingers came in contact with Leonardo's skin, the scene in front of him blurred, and Raphael felt like he was falling.

* * *

Raphael blinked.

He wasn't in a temple at the end of a suspect road anymore. He was at home, in the most familiar place he could remember: the dojo.

And Leonardo wasn't meditating at all, he was performing sword kata with his familiar katana.

"Leo?" Raphael asked.

He almost jumped when his blue-clad brother answered him without even slowing his moves.

"What do you want, Raph?"

"Leo!" Raphael exclaimed. "You're here!"

"It looks pretty obvious."

"No, I mean… you…" Raphael struggled to find the right words. "We're all waiting for you to wake up."

"Why should I?" Leonardo answered defiantly. "So you can tell me how _lame_ I am?"

"No!" Raphael retorted, and he took a step forward.

He was suddenly caught in a storm of blades, hundreds and hundreds of blades, and on each of them was written the infamous inscription that he had himself devised.

 _Lame-O-Nardo. Lame-O-Nardo. Lame-O-Nardo_.

Raphael shouted and took his sai, blocking the blades with all his skill, his heart skipping a beat each time he caught his own reflection in one of these deadly mirrors. They were too numerous; he had no hope of escaping every edge. However, the blades which managed to get past his defense didn't leave a mark on him. He didn't even feel them. It was as if they were ghostly.

"What's the meaning of this?" Raphael shouted, trying to reach his brother through the storm – and suddenly the blades disappeared and Leonardo was in front of him again, disarmed and his skin striped with bloody lines, one for each of the blows that Raphael hadn't blocked.

"It hurts, you know," Leonardo whispered sadly, and Raphael's heart broke so painfully that it was impossible that he would be able to pick up the pieces.

"I'm sorry, Leo," he cried. "I'm sorry! I never meant to hurt you like this!"

Leonardo was still looking at him sadly, and Raphael knew without the shadow of a doubt that apologizing wasn't enough – these words didn't hold the necessary power.

But he knew of other words that did, words he hadn't told Leonardo or any other of his brothers in a very, very long time – because he was proud and fierce and so _stupid_ at times.

"I love you, brother," he whispered softly, and maybe he still had a heart after all, because the feeling he had just called upon poured out of it right now, to wrap Leonardo and wipe away his blood and his pain.

Raphael blinked, his eyes still full of tears, and suddenly he heard Leonardo's voice speak to him – but it was his child's voice.

"I love you too, Raph."

Raphael forced his vision into focus and saw that both he and Leonardo were children now, lying on their plastrons on the dojo's carpet.

"Are you still jealous because Splinter chose me and not you to be leader?" Leonardo asked in a curious, lilting voice, and Raphael reached out for him with his small arms.

"That's not it, Leo," he answered truthfully, squeezing his brother's hands. "You did nothing wrong. It's me. I've always been bad at taking orders. It's hard enough when it's Father, but it's worse when it's you. I've less practice, I guess. Maybe I'm not made for being part of a team. Maybe I should become a lone wolf, maybe…"

Leonardo's eyes widened.

"But we need you, Raph," he protested. "Don't you need us? Don't you want us?"

"Of course I do!" Raphael answered desperately.

He closed his eyes to prevent new tears from escaping – he wasn't the crying type, he wasn't – but of course he wanted his brothers, how could he not?

When he opened his eyes, the scenery had changed once again. Both he and Leonardo were fifteen again, sitting on the edge of a skyscraper and watching New York City at night.

"Then stay, Raph," Leonardo answered. "And I'll try to be a better leader for you. Less pushy."

Raphael looked at him, impossibly relieved because this Leonardo sounded a lot more like the brother he knew, and he smiled.

"Deal. And I'll try not to complain each time you ask us to do something."

"Deal," Leonardo repeated, with a genuine smile that made Raphael want to embrace the entire world. Metaphorically speaking, that was.

Both of them fell silent, watching the beauty of the city lights in front of them.

After a while, Raphael stretched and leaned on his brother.

"Is there anything else?" he asked quietly.

"Uh?" Leonardo answered, not understanding.

"Have I done anything else that hurt you, and you never told me?" Raphael clarified.

"Hmm," Leonardo answered. "I don't like it when you call me a 'Fearless leader'. Because I'm not."

Maybe it was a side-effect of that strange dream that Leonardo was suddenly so straightforward – but Raphael wasn't going to complain.

"I know you're not, Leo," Raphael answered slowly.

Leonardo turned to him in surprise, and Raphael smiled.

"But you certainly appear so. Besides, 'Not Fearless But Extraordinarily Courageous Leader With An Annoying Tendency To Self-Sacrifice' doesn't ring as nicely."

Leonardo shook his head, resigned.

"When you put it that way."

Raphael stifled a laugh.

"Still, I'll try to use it less, if it bothers you so."

"Thanks, Raph."

Raphael poked his brother.

"So, you're waking up or what?"

Leonardo watched him seriously.

"You helped a lot. But…"

Leonardo didn't end his sentence, but Raphael had understood. He wasn't the only one who had hurt Leonardo. He wasn't the only one the blue-clad turtle had drifted away from.

Raphael sighed.

"It would have been too easy, right? Fine. I'll send you the others."

* * *

Without really understanding how, Raphael found himself back at the temple. The grey mist was shimmering red next to him, and he turned to see that there was now a wide column of red fire in one of the corners.

"Well done, Raph!" Michelangelo exclaimed.

The orange-clad turtle was kneeling and playing with small stones he had pulled off the road. From what Raphael could guess, he was in the process of building a small city with them.

Michelangelo swept the stones away and stood up. Taking in his brother's expression, he frowned.

"But… are you alright, bro?"

"I'm fine," Raphael muttered, looking at the motionless Leonardo in the center. "Do you think you could bring Donnie here next?"

"No problem, bro. No problem at all."


	17. Purple Flame

**Purple Flame**

* * *

Michelangelo had been a little too optimistic in assuring that there would be no problem. When he and Raphael had woken Donatello up, the purple-clad turtle had immediately assumed the worst. Panicked and upset, he had run to Leonardo without listening to his brothers' explanations, and it was only when he had been convinced Leonardo was in no immediate danger that he had accepted to settle down and listen.

Of course, it didn't mean that he believed a single word of his brothers' tale.

"You," Donatello sighed, pointing accusingly at Michelangelo, "claim that you can dream of a temple where Leo meditates, and you," he pointed accusingly at Raphael, "back up this story and affirm that you talked to Leo here. Do I get this right?"

Michelangelo and Raphael exchanged sheepish glances.

"Uh, yes?" Michelangelo confirmed.

"I can't believe you woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that," Donatello muttered. "It's not funny, guys."

"It's not a joke, Donnie," Michelangelo protested.

"I know it's hard to believe, but…" Raphael added.

"You're wrong, Raph," Donatello interrupted him. "It's not _hard_ to believe, it's _impossible_ to believe."

"Donnie, stop being so rational," Raphael protested. "We're talking about Leo here!"

"What are you trying to say, Raph? That I don't care about my own brother?"

Donatello watched his red-clad brother with narrowed eyes. The worry and lack of sleep combined to make him on the verge of losing his usually level-headed temper. Raphael must have seen it, because he backed off.

"Of course not, Donnie," he said soothingly. "I'm just saying, give it a try before you refuse it."

"Which means?" Donatello inquired.

"Go back to sleep, and you'll see," Michelangelo answered.

Donatello watched him with a dumbfounded expression.

"You woke me up to tell me to go back to sleep?"

Michelangelo grasped his shoulders.

"It's the only way it will work, bro! Please!"

Donatello sighed. This was pointless, but it would be over sooner if he let Michelangelo have what he wanted. Donatello knew from experience than once Michelangelo had focused his mind on something, it was a painful and exhausting process to divert it.

"Fine," Donatello sighed. "But you won't be able to say that I didn't warn you."

Donatello took the chair and allowed Michelangelo to hold his hand. The orange-clad turtle lay on Leonardo's bed. Raphael went in search for another chair, then sat on the other side of the bed to watch his three brothers.

Michelangelo closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly. Donatello watched him, then Raphael's expectant face.

"I'm feeling particularly stupid," he commented.

"Come on, Donnie," Raphael encouraged him. "Sleep."

"I'm trying, Raph. But it's hard to find sleep again when you've been woken up in the middle of the night and panicked because you thought that your brother was in grave danger. There is far too much adrenaline coursing in my body right now. It doesn't go well with sleep."

"Do you want me to…uh… hypnotize you or something?"

"No thanks."

"Then I don't know, count sheep."

"Raph, really?"

"Or I could just knock you out. I'll make it as painless as possible, I promise."

"On second thought, counting sheep is fine. Goodnight, Raph."

"Goodnight, Donnie. Have sweet dreams."

* * *

Twelve thousand and seven sheep later, Donatello found himself on Michelangelo's orange road.

"Finally!" Michelangelo exclaimed, throwing up his arms. "Dude, I was beginning to believe that you would never come. What took you so long?"

"Shepherding," Donatello answered matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Never mind. What is this place?"

"No idea. Now, believe in it and we'll find Leo," Michelangelo answered, beginning to walk.

"You want me to believe in something you can't even explain? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Dude, that's the whole point of _believing_."

"Sorry, I'm more of a _relying-on-proved-facts_ guy."

"You're so rational, Donnie, it's really annoying sometimes," Michelangelo sighed.

"Well excuse me," Donatello answered, clearly irritated, "not everyone can buy everything without a second thought."

"I know, that's a special gift. Now forget your facts and believe."

Michelangelo and Donatello walked in silence for a while, until Michelangelo sighed.

"Donnie?"

"Yes?"

"Can you please try harder?"

Donatello stopped and crossed his arms.

"Why am I even discussing this with you? You're not real. You're only a part of my dream."

Michelangelo shook his head.

"If I'm a part of your dream, then I exist somehow, right? So I'm real."

"Well, no. Reality is something that exists independently from you. If I stop dreaming, you'll stop existing."

"No I won't," Michelangelo protested. "Besides, how can you say that anything exists independently from you? If you don't interact with it, how can you know it's there?"

"I just know it."

"So you _believe_ in it. But what if you're wrong? Maybe everything is one giant, big dream."

Donatello blinked, shaken. His brother had a point. What if reality such as he knew it didn't really exist? What if his senses were misleading him?

"So you just have to believe that there is a Leo-reality somewhere in there," Michelangelo was going on. "The same way you believe in any reality at all."

Donatello groaned. He felt the beginnings of a headache and closed his eyes. Was it even possible to have headaches in dreams? Or in other realities? Should he doubt everything he had ever held for real in his life?

Michelangelo's shout interrupted his confused reasoning.

"Yes! You did it!"

"What?" Donatello asked, opening his eyes.

He opened his mouth wide at the temple that had suddenly appeared from nowhere in front of him, at the column of red fire in one of the corners and at Leonardo's shape meditating in the middle.

"Now go to him and make your own column," Michelangelo ordered. "And please take less time than you did to come here. It's quite boring to wait on this road."

Donatello looked at his orange-clad brother, speechless, before taking a hesitant step towards Leonardo.

"Leo?" he whispered, touching his brother's shoulder lightly.

* * *

Donatello was looking at a scene he had lived, except this time, he was watching it from the outside.

At the entrance of an alleyway, he, Michelangelo and Raphael were congratulating themselves while Leonardo watched them, looking hurt.

 _Leo's last training session,_ Donatello thought.

He watched his double, laughing while Leonardo looked forlorn at his katana.

 _I guess we did undermine his training. But it was only meant as a joke,_ Donatello thought guiltily.

Suddenly, the scene changed. This time, Donatello was a part of it. He was the one sidelined, while Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo pointed at him and laughed, then turned around and left him behind. Donatello tried to call them back, but his voice caught in his throat when he noticed the inscription engraved in his bo staff.

 _Dumb-A-Tello._

 _I'm not dumb, am I?_ Donatello thought, tears prickling his eyes. _I'm a genius._ But earlier memories of his brothers dismissing his beloved inventions as useless, stupid or plain dangerous went through his mind, and he sank to his knees.

He had believed that this matter was settled. After all, how many times had one of his inventions saved his brothers' lives? But deep down, he felt doubt gnawing at him.

"It's not fun when you're the one experiencing it, right, Donnie?" Leonardo's voice asked coldly.

Donatello raised his head and realized that he was now alone with his brother.

"I just wanted to have fun," Donatello whispered tearfully. "I didn't realize how much it would hurt. I'm so dumb."

The scenery blurred, and suddenly they were both in Donatello's lab.

"No you're not, Donnie," Leonardo answered, and this time his voice was soft.

Donatello felt his doubts slowly recede at the certainty in his brother's voice, and his sobs calmed down.

"But sometimes the obvious eludes you."

Donatello used a hand to wipe away his tears.

"So this is how you felt? I'm sorry I was a part of it. I just wanted to have fun. And I thought it would be a good way to remind you that you can't push us too far. That you're first and foremost our brother. Our brother we care deeply about, by the way. I guess it was an utter failure."

"You could say that," Leonardo answered, kneeling on the floor next to his brother and using a finger to carefully wipe away Donatello's remaining tears. "I'm sorry for the violence of this experience."

Donatello forced himself to smile.

"It's okay. I forgive you. If you forgive me."

Leonardo smiled back and hugged him.

"I do."

Donatello sighed in relief, returning the hug with strength. After a while, Leonardo moved apart to sit back-to-back with him and rested his head on Donatello's shell, as they liked to do when they were toddlers.

"I know I'm your brother first, Donnie. Why would you think otherwise?"

Donatello rested his own head on Leonardo's. The words escaped his lips before he knew they had been in his head.

"You almost never team up with me."

He felt Leonardo start on his back.

"What?"

Donatello tried to eliminate any resentment from his voice. He hadn't been aware that he was feeling that way. But there was something in the air that made his deepest feelings come out into the open, and he couldn't help it.

"On missions. Whenever we split up. You team up either with Raph or with Mikey. Not with me."

Donatello's voice was trembling now.

"Is it because I'm not as good a fighter as they are?"

"Because you… Donnie, no!"

Moving quickly, Leonardo grasped Donatello's shoulders and gave them a spin, so that Donatello was facing him once again and he could gather him in his arms.

"You're an amazing fighter, Donnie," Leonardo said soothingly. "And I'm always honored to fight at your side."

"Then why?" Donatello asked, fresh tears in his eyes.

Leonardo paused to think about his answer.

"I guess it's because that way, each team has a level-headed fighter," he answered slowly. "For balance."

Donatello thought about it. It made sense.

"It makes sense," he whispered. "It's just frustrating. I want to team up with you too. That's selfish, I guess."

"I'll keep it in mind," Leonardo said, and Donatello knew it was a promise. "And you're not selfish, Donnie."

Donatello nodded and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being held tight in his brother's arms. Right now, it didn't matter if it was just a dream.

"And the 'I wanted to have fun' part?" Leonardo asked after a while. "I have a feeling that you didn't tell me everything."

Donatello sighed. Sometimes, he wished that Leonardo's brotherly instincts weren't so spot-on.

"I was happy to help with this scheme partly because it kept my mind from thinking about April," he answered reluctantly.

"I'm sorry, Donnie," Leonardo answered sadly, hugging him tighter.

"It's not your fault," Donatello answered.

Then he smiled.

"Besides, you helped."

"Uh?"

"Yes. She's talking to us again. She called me when you got lost. You almost crashed into her window."

"Ouch. I don't remember that part."

Donatello laughed. Then he straightened up to glare at his brother.

"I appreciate that you somehow found your way to her and not to one of our enemies' strongholds," he told him. "But running away in the rain like that? It was your worst plan ever. You are never to do that again, do you understand?"

Leonardo gulped.

"Even if in the end, it brought her back to y… to us?" he tried sheepishly.

"Even so."

"Fine. It was stupid, you're right. For the record, I never really intended to do that."

Donatello huffed. Leonardo suddenly smiled at him.

"At least we know two things for certain."

"You have no self-preservation and April saved your life?"

"April didn't put us behind her and your inventions save the day every time."

"Why would you say that?" Donatello asked, curious.

"She had her T-phone at hand."

* * *

When Donatello found himself back at the temple, he watched with emotion the wide purple-colored column of fire that had appeared in another corner.

"Nice work, Donnie!" Michelangelo grinned at him.

"Okay." Donatello sighed. "I…must admit that you were onto something, Mikey. But I think I've had enough mystical stuff for the night. Let's go back."

"Sure, Donnie," Michelangelo answered immediately.

Donatello joined him and walked a few steps before disappearing. Michelangelo expected to wake up, but he didn't. Something was holding him back.

The orange-clad turtle watched the temple and his two columns of fire, one red and one purple. The blue flame seemed to shine brighter. Then he looked at the tiny orange flame and frowned.

Raphael and Donatello had managed to get through to his brother, but it wasn't enough.

Michelangelo tried again to step on the temple's floor. Like last time, the orange road under him wavered and flickered and a feeling of dread overwhelmed him.

Michelangelo bit his lip. That road was his way home. What would he do if it disappeared?

He took another look at the meditating shape of his beloved brother and at the ridiculously tiny orange flame.

He had to risk it.

Taking another step, Michelangelo left the road and advanced towards his brother. Taking a glance backwards, he noticed that there was only mist surrounding Leonardo's temple now. No road.

With a deep breath, he focused his attention back on Leonardo.

"I'm coming, Leo," he whispered, crouching to hug his brother's shape.


	18. Orange Flame

**Orange Flame**

* * *

Michelangelo found himself inside a deep forest. Leonardo was nowhere in sight.

The orange-clad turtle frowned and tried to see through the darkness between the trees.

"Leo?" he asked tentatively.

He heard a rustle and took a step in the direction it was coming from.

"Leo, are you here?" Michelangelo tried again, listening closely.

This time, the rustle came from another direction. Michelangelo followed it.

"Leeeeeeeeo!"

Another rustle, another direction.

"You want to play hide-and-seek? No problem, I've always been good at that game."

Michelangelo stood still and listened. For an entire minute. After that, the urge to move became impossible to ignore and he took a step at random.

"Can you please give me a clue? It's not like I can search your favorite places or something. We've never been in a forest like this before."

Here. He had heard something.

"Why a forest, by the way? If you had to picture a landscape, why not a nice beach, with palm trees and turquoise waters and, I don't know, a big warm sun instead of this damp twilight?"

A weak chuckle. Good.

"Can you imagine it? I would build sand space ships with you, Donnie would study the local wildlife and occasionally comment on our inaccurate designs, and Raph would complain that it's too hot and the water is too cold and it's boring because the local gangsters are having a nap instead of bullying people, so he has no excuse to beat them up."

There. A stifled laugh. Michelangelo smiled.

"It would be great, don't you think? The four of us together."

The orange-clad turtle suddenly launched forward. He had seen a different shape in the darkness, he was certain of it.

But it was only a pile of dead leaves, which scattered at Michelangelo's passage.

Michelangelo's voice broke.

"Leo, why don't you want me to find you? Are you mad? Please don't be mad."

A sad sigh somewhere on his right. Michelangelo's eyes searched through the trees.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you. I love you, bro. You're awesome."

Another sound. A… sob, maybe?

"Leo?"

Michelangelo jumped across the trees, and landed in a bush. Another shape that wasn't his brother.

"Leeeeeeeeeeo!"

No answer.

"It's not fun anymore!" Michelangelo shouted, on the verge of tears.

Why was his brother hiding from him?

Crossing his arms, Michelangelo sat where he was. If he couldn't come to Leonardo, he would make Leonardo come to him.

"I know you're here. I'll wait for you as long as I have to."

No answer.

"Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeo!"

Still no answer. But Michelangelo was persistent.

"Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeo!"

Stubborn.

"Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeo!"

And he could summon a very shrill voice.

"Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeo!"

Michelangelo caught his breath. He could be even shriller. Leonardo would have to come to him or end up deaf.

"Leeee…."

The trees wavered and turned into ghostly Leonardo-like shapes.

"There you are," Michelangelo said accusingly. "Uh… And there. And there."

He stood up and walked to one of the shapes. They looked guiltily and ashamed at him. Michelangelo carefully touched one of them, and it burst into tiny grey flakes.

"I don't deserve you," the flakes said.

"Yes you do," Michelangelo retorted.

He brushed past another shape, then another.

"I don't deserve your affection. I don't deserve your admiration," they said, bursting.

"Yes you do!" Michelangelo exclaimed.

Another shape, another burst.

"I'm not good enough for you."

Michelangelo clenched his fists.

"Yes you are!" he shouted.

He took a nunchuck in one hand and swirled it through the hundreds of shapes, and simultaneously twisted his other arm to plug his ears and avoid hearing the horrible things they said when bursting.

Michelangelo closed his eyes while he danced and swirled amongst the shapes, shouting with all his strength.

"You're my brother! You're amazing! I admire you if I want to, and you have nothing to say about it! And I'll keep saying it until either you believe it, or I lose my voice! But I'm warning you, that last possibility is highly unlikely, because this is a dream and I can do anything I want in my dreams! Except, apparently, find my missing brother!"

Michelangelo was crying openly now. Something suddenly caught his nunchuck, and the orange-clad turtle opened his eyes to stare at another pair of eyes, deep blue and brimming with tears.

There was only one Leonardo-shape left, it had his nunchunk in its hand, and it wasn't ghostly.

"Leo," Michelangelo cried.

He jumped at him and hugged him octopus-style before he could disappear again.

* * *

Michelangelo didn't let go of Leonardo when the scenery changed and they found themselves at the beach he had wished for.

He didn't let go of him when Leonardo sat down in the sand, his feet plunging into the sea.

And he certainly didn't let go when Leonardo wrapped his arms around him and buried his muzzle in his neck.

Michelangelo cried and cried, mixing his tears with his brother's.

When he finally managed to calm down, he asked Leonardo in a slightly shaking voice.

"Why did you hide from me?"

"I was ashamed," his brother answered softly. "I still am."

"But why?"

"Among other things, because I wasn't strong enough to find my way back on my own, and you had to come here for me."

"Nonsense," Michelangelo whispered. "Of course I would come here for you. I would go anywhere for you. And you don't have to do everything on your own. Or else, what's the point in having brothers?"

He felt Leonardo tense.

"But I should have been able to…"

Michelangelo hugged him tighter.

"Nonsense. And if I'm the one saying it, you know it has to be true. I know everything about nonsense, bro."

Leonardo chuckled.

"That's right."

Michelangelo nodded, satisfied with this answer.

"I know I hurt you too," the orange-clad turtle went on in a small voice. "I'm sorry, Leo. Are you mad?"

"Not anymore."

"Good. And you know I love you, right? And I admire you. Because you're awesome, and amazing, and my brother."

Leonardo raised his head to look Michelangelo in the eye.

"Then why don't you take me seriously?"

Michelangelo's eyes widened.

"That's what's bothering you? Dude, I take nothing seriously. It's like, my only philosophy in life!"

Michelangelo disentangled one octopus-arm to poke his brother before wrapping it around his frame again.

"Besides, I could say the same."

Leonardo blinked.

"Uh. I hadn't thought about that."

The blue-clad turtle stroked his brother's head.

"But it doesn't mean that I don't recognize your worth. I'm just messing with you."

Michelangelo grinned triumphantly at him.

"Exactly."

Leonardo's eyes widened slightly before he rolled them.

"Okay. You got me."

Michelangelo looked at him smugly and Leonardo tickled his sensitive sides.

"Not fair, Leo!" Michelangelo burst out laughing.

Leonardo stopped with a grin and hugged his brother again.

"Still, taking nothing seriously in life is bound to attract you trouble," he whispered in Michelangelo's ear. "Some things demand to be taken seriously. Like pink alarm buttons in Kraang labs. Or my pleas for quiet and stealth during missions."

"Hey, I'm getting better."

"I know. Thanks for your efforts."

Michelangelo winked at his brother.

"I still maintain that not taking things seriously is a great way of life."

"I would have been surprised," Leonardo sighed.

"Think about it, bro. We are four mutant turtles living in a sewer. The fastest turtles you'll ever see. Our father is a giant rat and a master of ninjitsu."

"So?"

"So the universe is laughing at us. And if he does, then I'll laugh back at him."

"Your wisdom is amazing me."

"I'm going to tell everyone you said that, fair warning."

Leonardo chuckled, and Michelangelo stopped talking for once, focusing on the warmth and comfort of the hug. After all, it was long overdue.

* * *

Back at the temple, Michelangelo watched with pride the column of orange fire that had replaced the tiny flame in its bowl.

"Much better."

Then he turned to the meditating Leonardo in the center, and realized with a pang of joy that his eyes were open.

"Thanks, Mikey," Leonardo told him.

"It's up to you now, Leo," Michelangelo answered, pointing at the small blue flame in the last corner.

Leonardo looked at it, then at the temple and its three columns of fire.

"I'll try," he said. "See you back in the real world, then."

"Reality is a debatable concept," Michelangelo whispered, looking at the mist surrounding them.

The orange-clad turtle shuddered. He was suddenly feeling cold. He wished for his orange road to appear so he could wake up in his warm body, but nothing happened.

Leonardo noticed his unease.

"Mikey, what's the problem?"

"I've used a road to get there, but it has disappeared," Michelangelo admitted.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes and grasped his brother's shoulders.

"Mikey, what are you trying to tell me?"

Michelangelo averted his eyes and tried to sound cheerful. He failed miserably.

"I…I don't know how to wake up."

* * *

At the lair, Raphael and Donatello were anxiously waiting for Michelangelo – and, hopefully, Leonardo – to awaken.

"Why is it taking so long?" Raphael muttered. "You were faster. Once you finally managed to fall asleep, that is."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't stayed here and watched me like a hawk…"

"I was watching over you," Raphael protested. "Still. I hope everything is alright."

He bent over Michelangelo to pat his plastron affectuously and his heart skipped a beat.

"Donnie!" he shouted, the sheer terror in his voice making Donatello jump.

"What is it, Raph?"

"Mikey isn't breathing!"


	19. Blue Flame

**Blue Flame**

* * *

Leonardo watched Michelangelo with incredulity.

"What do you mean, you don't know how to wake up?"

Michelangelo blinked at him, his voice shaking.

"I think the road was my connection to my body. And it disappeared when I set foot on the temple floor."

"To reach me," Leonardo muttered, horrified.

"Yes," Michelangelo answered reluctantly. "But Leo, I had to. You needed me."

"You shouldn't have taken such a risk!"

Michelangelo smiled at him, and his smile was full of love, sadness and fear.

"It was the only way."

"Mikey…"

Leonardo wanted to shout at his brother, to plead with him to admit that it was a joke, that he knew how to wake up, that he hadn't come to him at the expense of his own life, but the words caught in his throat when he noticed that Michelangelo's shape was fading slowly.

"No! Mikey!"

Leonardo held his brother tighter, but it didn't stop the process. Michelangelo looked at him with questioning baby blue eyes.

"I'm cold, Leo. I'm so cold. Am I… am I dying?"

"No! No, Mikey, you're not," Leonardo said desperately. "I won't let it happen, I promise! I'll…"

Michelangelo was almost transparent now. In a few seconds, he would disappear completely. Leonardo's voice broke.

"I'll bring you back, Mikey," he sobbed.

"Okay," Michelangelo whispered, trying to hide his fear. "But just in case, Leo… It's not your fault. It was my choice."

And just like that, he was gone and Leonardo was hugging thin air.

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" Leonardo shouted, falling to his knees.

 _It's your fault_ , a voice whispered inside Leonardo's head. _No matter what he says,_ _it's your fault he's gone. If not for you, he would never have come here._

"Mikey," Leonardo whispered, his tears flowing freely.

 _You don't deserve to live. Join him. Jump into the mist._

Leonardo watched with a crazed look at the grey mist that surrounded the temple. He stood up hesitantly and walked slowly towards the edge.

 _Just jump, and everything will be over._

"Everything will be over," Leonardo repeated slowly.

 _There is nothing else you can do._

"There is nothing else I can…"

Leonardo's eyes fell upon the tiny blue flame, flickering like crazy in its bowl at his feet. He spun and watched the three columns of colored fire which filled the other corners.

"There is something I can do," he whispered.

 _It's not going to work._

"You don't know that," Leonardo said defiantly.

Crouching, he caught the small flame in his hands and brought it to his heart.

* * *

Donatello was performing CPR on Michelangelo, alternating the chest compressions and the rescue breaths. Sweat was dripping on his skin, but he didn't care. All his focus was directed at performing the right gestures at the right time.

Raphael had run to wake up Splinter. The ninja master was soon here.

"I'll take your place," his father ordered, his voice calm despite the anxiety and fear.

Donatello nodded, and they swiftly switched places. Exhausted, Donatello collapsed in Raphael's arms. The red-clad turtle's face was white with fear.

"We can't lose him," he uttered in a blank voice. "We can't lose them."

Donatello outright refused to think about this possibility.

"We won't," he answered. "They're fighters. Both of them."

* * *

Leonardo was floating in the darkness, the only light coming from the blue flame that surrealistically glowed through his chest. The cold voice was coming from everywhere now, and resonated in his being.

 _You can't win. I'll swallow you whole. Do you think that your ridiculous light scares me?_

"Go away!" Leonardo shouted, focusing on the flame.

 _I can't go away. I'm inside of you. I'm every doubt you nurtured, every disappointment you felt, every time you weren't good enough in your own eyes._

Leonardo opened his mouth to protest, but the cold truth was inescapable. It was true.

The blue flame shrank to a tiny point.

 _You made me. I'm the destiny you chose._

Leonardo closed his eyes.

 _You can't fight yourself and win._

The truth, again. Leonardo breathed deeply, refusing to let it crush him. There had to be a way.

 _My voice is your voice. You can't escape me. I'm always with you, always in your head._

And suddenly, Leonardo knew what he had to do. His eyes snapped open.

"You're not the only voice which is always with me," he stated defiantly.

Opening his arms to embrace the darkness, he let his most recent memories fill his head.

Raphael's fire to soothe his pain and heal his injuries. _I love you, brother_ , he had said, he who considered revealing any feeling a deadly weakness.

Donatello's fire to share his anger and sense of betrayal and burn them. _You're first and foremost our brother,_ he had told him.

Michelangelo's fire to dismiss the shame and fear of rejection. _You're awesome,_ he had said. Michelangelo who hadn't hesitated to risk being forever lost in order to reach him.

His brothers who needed him as much as he needed them. Their strength to feed his own. To balance his inner demons.

" _They_ are always with me too!" he shouted, while bursts of red, purple and orange light set the darkness alight.

 _You can't destroy me,_ the voice repeated, whining. _Not without destroying yourself._

"I know," Leonardo said.

He had never felt calmer in his entire life.

"I accept you. As a part of me, and only as a part of me."

 _You accept me._

The darkness engulfed him, before disappearing inside the blue flame in his chest, guided by the red, purple and orange lights.

The blue flame grew and grew, until it swallowed Leonardo whole.

The voice in his head sighed and shut up, and suddenly Leonardo was back at the temple, next to a wide column of blue fire.

"I did it, Mikey," Leonardo whispered.

* * *

 _It's not working_ , Donatello thought, frozen. But he didn't say it aloud. There was no way he would ever say it aloud.

Splinter had been performing CPR for more than thirty minutes now, and Michelangelo still wasn't breathing on his own.

"Raphael, trade places with me," the ninja master finally ordered.

Raphael obeyed.

None of them would give up.

* * *

Leonardo took place in the center of the temple once again. Breathing deeply, he drew strength from each of the four columns and combined them, sending waves of multicolored fire in search for his missing brother.

He could feel the link between him and Michelangelo.

 _I know you're here, somewhere, and I'll find you, Mikey_ , he thought.

This time, no inner voice contradicted him.

Leonardo focused even harder. He could feel the pure energy hidden in the mist now. There were beings floating there. _Spirits._ But none of them had his brother's distinctive warmth.

No. Michelangelo was, in fact, much closer to him.

Leonardo walked to the column of orange fire and entered it. Inside, a Michelangelo-shape was hunched up and sleeping.

"Mikey," Leonardo whispered. "I'm here."

Michelangelo groaned and stretched.

"Leo," he yawned. "The energy things were calling me, but it was warmer here, so I decided I would stay inside and take a nap."

"Great idea, Mikey," Leonardo said affectuously. "Great idea."

Michelangelo smiled at him.

"I'm not dead, then?"

Leonardo hugged him.

"No, Mikey. You're not dead."

"Good. But I still don't know how to wake up."

"It's okay, brother. I do."

Taking Michelangelo's hand, Leonardo guided him out of the column of orange fire. In front of them, a blue road was shining brightly, leading out of the temple and through the mist.

"Nice!" Michelangelo chirped. "How did you do that?"

"That's a good question, Mikey," Leonardo told him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "And I have no idea what the answer is."

"That's fine," Michelangelo nodded. "It happens to me all the time."

Together, the two turtles started their journey home.

* * *

Raphael was beginning to tire out. Donatello would have to replace him soon in performing CPR. He bent over Michelangelo to perform the rescue breaths, his mouth over his brother's.

"Raph! Yuk!" Michelangelo's voice suddenly protested.

Raphael threw himself backwards, astounded.

"Mikey! You're breathing!"

Next to Michelangelo, Leonardo stirred and opened his eyes.

"Mi…key?" he slurred, moving his head wearily to check on his brother.

"Leo!" Donatello exclaimed. "You're back!"

"I'm right here, Leo!" Michelangelo grinned.

"My sons," Splinter whispered, relief overwhelming him. "You came home."

Both Raphael and Donatello threw themselves at their brothers, crushing them in a fierce embrace.

"Ouch!" Michelangelo whined. "Why do I hurt so much?"

"CPR, Mikey," Donatello answered with one arm around Leonardo's plastron and the other stroking Michelangelo's head while Raphael was hugging everyone at once, "is painful."

"CPR?" Michelangelo widened his eyes and took in the exhausted and relieved expressions of Donatello, Raphael and Splinter. "Oops."


	20. Acceptance

**Acceptance**

* * *

Splinter watched his sons, gathered in the dojo for the first time since Leonardo and Michelangelo had woken up.

Raphael was animatedly talking with Leonardo, apparently explaining to him in great detail how he would beat him up during their next training session because he was out of shape after sleeping for so long, while Leonardo shook his head with a grin that soothed Splinter's heart. The ninja master had missed that smile.

Meanwhile, Michelangelo was whispering something in Donatello's ear, and his purple-clad son blushed. Splinter repressed a chuckle. April was going to visit them today, to celebrate the family's reunion. She would probably arrive soon.

Splinter tapped the floor with his walking stick to get his sons' attention. Four sets of eyes turned to him.

"My sons. I'm glad to see you all in such high spirits after the events that recently befell our family."

Splinter remembered the anxiety and guilt he had experienced after Leonardo had been carried home, unconscious and sick, and didn't wake up for days, and the fear and despair he had fought when Raphael had come to him in the middle of the night to tell him that Michelangelo, his orange-clad baby, wasn't breathing.

Yes. These last few days had definitely been emotionally taxing.

His sons nodded gravely and Leonardo's gaze grew somber. From his place on the other side of Donatello, Michelangelo noticed it, frowned slightly and took one of his still glittering crutches to poke him from behind. Leonardo narrowed his eyes at his brother. Splinter read on Michelangelo's lips the message he was silently enunciating for Leonardo's sake.

'Not your fault.'

Leonardo rolled his eyes and the shadow in them receded. Splinter pretended not to have noticed the scene and smiled at his four sons, his heart filled with pride and love for them.

"I'm extremely proud of you all for the courage and spiritual strength the four of you showed."

The ninja master had finally learned the outlines of what had happened between his four sons that fateful night, when they had almost lost Michelangelo. His sons hadn't shared the details with him, and he hadn't pried.

"Leonardo, you built a sanctuary where your mind could rest and heal, while allowing your brothers to find and help you. You made your peace with them and yourself, and brought Michelangelo back to us when he was lost. Well done, my son."

Leonardo blushed, while Michelangelo, Raphael and Donatello grinned at him.

"Michelangelo, you connected to Leonardo's spirit and guided Donatello and Raphael to him. When your turn came, you didn't hesitate to take great risks in order to help your brother. You showed great wisdom and courage."

Michelangelo whooped and his brothers threw themselves at him, chatting excitedly.

"I can't believe I just heard that," Raphael said, rubbing Michelangelo's head. "You? Wise?"

"Of course I am," Michelangelo replied. "Leo said so too. Right, Leo?"

"Sure, Mikey." Leonardo smiled, his eyes gleaming just a little mischievously. "You're the wisest orange-clad turtle in this world."

"Maybe you could use this great wisdom more often, then," Donatello suggested. "So we could get used to it."

Michelangelo stuck his tongue out at him, and his brothers laughed.

Splinter watched his sons' antics with a heart full of joy. He couldn't help worrying about Leonardo and Michelangelo, though. He would have to be especially careful with these two. Their spiritual abilities were far beyond their age, and they had limited control over them. He would have to broaden his training.

His sons finally went back to their places, and Splinter went on.

"Raphael and Donatello, you allowed Michelangelo to guide you despite your earlier doubts…" Splinter looked at his most rational son, tilting his head, and Donatello smiled sheepishly at him. "And you managed to get through to Leonardo."

"Thanks, guys," Leonardo told them in a voice filled with emotion. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Eh." Raphael shrugged dismissively. "What else are brothers for?"

Splinter watched his four sons proudly, marveling at the strength of their brotherly bonds.

"And now…"

The ninja master went to his room and brought back the twin katana which had been hanging there for far too long.

"Leonardo, I believe these belong to you."

"Thank you, Sensei," Leonardo said respectfully, bowing.

He took his weapons and unsheathed one, testing his sharp edge with one finger and watching his reflection with a calm expression, before smiling and sheathing it back. In a swift move he had repeated thousands of times, he fastened them on his back.

"So, Leo," Michelangelo said, grinning at his blue-clad brother. "You're officially leader again?"

"Yes, Mikey," Leonardo said, looking at him, Raphael and Donatello.

Splinter was relieved to hear the certainty in his son's voice.

"Welcome back," Raphael merely commented. "I don't want to have a repetition of Donnie leading. He was terrible at it."

"That's true," Donatello retorted. "But for the record, you were worse."

Raphael punched him lightly, and Leonardo shook his head, smiling.

"I didn't get the chance to be leader," Michelangelo mused. "That's a pity, with me being so wise and all. Don't you think?"

"No," his three brothers answered in unison, and Michelangelo theatrically sighed.

Splinter smiled at them.

"I believe that April will be here soon. Maybe you could get ready for her. I don't think the living room has been swept recently."

Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo grumbled for form while standing up and leaving the dojo. Leonardo stayed behind.

Raphael paused at the entrance, waiting for his blue-clad brother.

"Leo, are you coming?"

"In a minute," Leonardo answered, his eyes set on his father.

* * *

Splinter watched his blue-clad son, patiently waiting until Leonardo was ready to talk to him.

"I'm sorry, Sensei," Leonardo told him softly after a while. "For running away like I did, falling sick and worrying everyone."

Splinter put a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed it.

"You don't need to apologize. I'm glad you found your way back to us. Besides, I owe you an apology too."

Leonardo looked at him in surprise. Splinter went on.

"I would have done more to support you if I had understood earlier how lost you felt."

"I was feeling so lame, so useless," Leonardo whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "I guess I had given up on myself."

"You didn't give up, Leonardo. If you had, your brothers would never have been able to reach you."

Leonardo bit his lip and nodded. He watched his father with concern, obviously hesitating to go on, and Splinter stayed quiet, hoping that his son would confide in him.

"I was hearing that horrible voice in my head," Leonardo finally admitted. "And I had created it. It was a part of me."

He lowered his eyes.

"It still is," he whispered.

Splinter used his other hand to lift his son's chin. He wasn't surprised.

"There is no shame in that. We all have our inner demons. The knowledge you gained in this ordeal will make you stronger, my son."

"It almost killed me. And Mikey."

"Self-doubt, much like anger, can be destructive. But it can be a protection too, helping you to acknowledge your limits. Learn to use this voice wisely."

"Hai, Sensei."

On an impulse, Leonardo embraced his father.

"Thank you."

Splinter heard what Leonardo left unsaid. _Thank you for accepting me as I am._ The ninja master returned the hug, enjoying that rare occurrence.

"I love you, my son," he whispered.

* * *

Leonardo was sitting on the couch next to April, savoring his last piece of pizza, while Raphael was chasing Michelangelo down. Apparently, the orange-clad turtle had stolen pizza right from his brother's mouth and was now hobbling faster than it should have been possible to avoid his brother's fury. Donatello was watching the show with interest.

"Thanks again, April," Leonardo told the red-haired girl. "I'm really sorry you had to see me like that."

April smiled at him.

"You already told me that a hundred times at least. I got the message. Besides, it's not every day you can knock out a great ninja merely by touching his arm."

Leonardo blushed and April laughed.

"Relax, Leo, it's only a joke. I'm really glad you're alright."

"About your father…"

April sighed.

"I've been giving it a lot of thought recently. And I think I realize now that it was an accident. There is no need to place blame where it doesn't belong."

"That's right," Michelangelo shouted, jumping to avoid being crushed by Raphael's impersonation of a tank. "You better remember that, Leo."

April nodded, satisfied.

"You know, I kind of wish I had filmed the scene. You were talking absolute nonsense. In any other situation, it would have been fun."

"That's a pity you didn't, then," Raphael remarked, grasping Michelangelo's uninjured foot and flattening him on the floor.

Leonardo grumbled something under his breath and hid his face in his hands while his family laughed.

Donatello suddenly straightened up, excited.

"Speaking of videos, April, I have something you might find fun… You see, we didn't tell you everything about our last adventure…"

April looked expectantly at him. Raphael suddenly stopped pinning Michelangelo down.

"Donnie!" the red-clad turtle roared. "Don't you dare!"

Michelangelo nimbly turned around and grasped his brother's shell, restraining him.

"Do it, Donnie! Quick!"

With a chuckle, Donatello handed his T-phone to April. The red-haired girl widened her eyes, her mind finding it difficult to grasp the meaning of the images she saw.

"Is that…Raphael? In a fairy costume?"

"You're so dead, Donnie!" Raphael fumed, trying to run at Donatello while Michelangelo did a fair job of slowing him down.

April covered her mouth with her hand, trying to repress a laugh and failing miserably. Leonardo stood up, shaking his head resignedly, and gave Michelangelo a helping hand in his difficult task. Raphael shouted.

"Let me go, Leo! I'll crush him!"

"Don't be mad, Raph," Donatello added, grinning hugely and knowing perfectly well that he was signing his own death warrant. "I'll buy you another scarf."

April looked at him with surprise, and Leonardo had an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

* * *

When things had settled down, April watched the other pictures and videos.

"Wow, Donnie, you were really cute," she exclaimed. "I wish I could have seen you in your unicorn disguise for real."

Donatello blushed hard.

"We could make him another costume," Michelangelo exclaimed happily. "Except I don't have any glitter glue left."

"That's not a problem," April replied. "I can supply it to you."

She winked at Raphael.

"And I would love to see you use a scarf as a weapon, Raph. I'm sure you were awesome and terrifying."

"Don't overdo it, April," Raphael warned her, his arms crossed. Although he had to admit that he wasn't entirely opposed to adding this accessory to his ninja arsenal.

April merely grinned at him, not fooled.

"All the same, you guys really had an interesting week."

"That's for sure." Donatello sighed. "I never want to go through that again."

"Me neither," Leonardo muttered.

April looked at him with compassionate eyes.

"The circumstances were highly specific. I don't think it will happen again."

She looked inquiringly at the three other turtles.

"Right, guys?"

"Sure, April."

"Of course, April.

"Count on us, April!"

Leonardo shook his head, smiling.

Michelangelo suddenly jumped.

"Guys! I've an idea! An awesome one! To be sure that Leo won't feel overburdened again!"

"Do I want to hear it?" Raphael mused, tapping his cheek.

"Come on, guys! I'm a poor, hurt turtle who was refused an awesome costume party and who can't even escape Raph's fury when he tries to have a little fun because he's unable to run properly. Plus I almost died recently. Can't you do this for me?" Michelangelo shamelessly guilt-tripped his brothers, adding his trademark puppy-dog eyes for good measure.

"Sure, Mikey. Anything you want," Leonardo answered immediately, unable to resist him even though he knew he was being played.

"Thanks, Leo!"

Michelangelo launched himself at his blue-clad brother and hugged him with great satisfaction.

"I'm so glad you're supporting me! Besides, you play a central role in my plan."

Leonardo gulped. He hoped he wasn't going to regret his words.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

 _One year later…_

Casey Jones, having just returned from a six day vacation with his father and little sister, ran inside the lair excitedly.

"Guys! You'll never guess what happened on my way here!"

The four turtles, who were sitting on the couch and watching an episode of Leonardo's favorite cartoon with a huge bowl of popcorn, greeted him.

"How was your vacation time, Casey?" Raphael asked him.

"Nice. My little sister was delighted to spend all her time with me and…"

Casey frowned.

"But don't you want to know what I found?"

"It depends," Donatello mused. "Is the survival of the human species at stake?"

"Uh…no…"

"An alien invasion, then?" Michelangelo asked.

"That's not it…"

"Is there any immediate danger at all?" Raphael crossed his arms.

"I… don't think so," Casey stammered. "A new gang has arrived in the city and begun to bully the storekeepers. I've stopped them Casey Jones-style, and they've sworn to take revenge. They said they have high-ranking friends, and I'm almost sure I glimpsed a Foot soldier in the background."

"Then I guess we should have a look at it," Leonardo remarked, and Michelangelo sighed.

"What's the matter, guys? You're usually the first ones to get excited when something out of the ordinary happens in New York City!" Casey told them, perplexed.

"Yes, but it's Leo's vacation week," Michelangelo replied casually.

Casey blinked.

"Leo's vacation week?"

"Yep," Raphael confirmed, taking another mouthful of salty popcorn.

"Uh… and… why?" Casey asked, dumbfounded.

"So Leo doesn't burn out again," Michelangelo explained gravely. "At this time of the year – and unless there is an emergency– we get to take care of him and he's forbidden to lift a finger."

"And Leo accepts it?" Casey asked incredulously.

Leonardo threw up his hands without answering, but he didn't manage to completely hide his smile.

"He takes it as a training in patience," Donatello stated.

Raphael punched his blue-clad brother's arm lightly.

"And he's also taking advantage of it. This is the fifteenth episode of _Space Heroes_ we're watching in a row."

Casey looked at them.

"Okay. Uh… So you're coming, or what?"

Leonardo stood up, swiftly and with suspicious relief.

"Yes. It sounds like a serious matter. Let's go, guys."

Michelangelo sighed.

"Well, at least we did better than last year, when we had to give up after only two days because an alien invasion required our full attention. This year, we almost reached the end of the fourth day!"

Donatello patted his shell.

"You're right, Mikey. We're making progress."

Leonardo smiled comfortingly at his orange-clad brother.

"Don't be sad, Mikey. We can still have that costume party afterwards. Maybe Casey will want to join us."

"Yay! Is Raph going to be a fairy again?"

Casey blinked, opened his mouth and closed it a few times, then burst into laughter.

"Oh please! Please!" he uttered between two fits of laughter. "Tell me you have pictures!"

From nowhere, a red scarf appeared around his left ankle and made him trip.

 **The End**

* * *

 _Author's Note: A word about the other characters._

 _Raphael's blow really affected Sir Hubert. When he woke up in the hospital, he decided that he would spend the rest of his life defending animal welfare. That's what he's famous for now, and he won a prize last week. Leonardo isn't too happy about it, because he's having an even harder time convincing Raphael that violence isn't the answer._

 _Sir Hubert's former second-in-command has started a career in haute couture and will present his first fashion show next year. He's still happily married._

 _The paramedics who intervened in Sir Hubert's house and saved his life are now retired. They all received a high financial compensation. After dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder for months, they are now beginning to take advantage of it._

 _New York's high society is still excitedly talking about Sir Hubert's last party…_


End file.
